


Lamb and Martyr

by Dira Sudis (dsudis)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bucky's Broken Dick, Complicated Consent, Cuddling & Snuggling, HYDRA Trash Party, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Negotiation, Learning curve, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Rape Recovery, Rape Roleplay, Rimming, Sex Toys, Steve's Sexual Orientation Is Double Dog Dare, Subdrop, They get better, Top Drop, Under-negotiated Kink, hydratrashmeme, unsafe kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 10:31:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 39,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4056736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsudis/pseuds/Dira%20Sudis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"You could, though," Steve said. "If you were willing to hurt me."</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [羔羊与殉道者](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5184311) by [cindyfxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cindyfxx/pseuds/cindyfxx)



> This was originally written at the Hydra Trash Meme, for the following prompt: 
> 
>  
> 
> _The Winter Soldier was never allowed to orgasm (and was punished if he did when his handlers used him for sex/he was caught masturbating) except when he was ordered to brutally rape HYDRA prisoners in lieu of conventional torture. As a result, post-CA:TWS, Bucky can only get off in violent non-con scenarios with him as the rapist - which, obviously, he finds horrifying, choosing self-imposed celibacy over the risk of hurting a lover._
> 
>  
> 
> _Steve finds out and offers to help. Cue hardcore BDSM with Steve pretending to be the Winter Soldier's victim, crying for help and begging him to stop (the more wretched the better - but always consensually, with a safeword). Steve doesn't get off on it, but he wants to help Bucky (and while vanilla sex does nothing for Bucky, maybe he finds it emotionally soothing to be gentle with Steve before/after their roleplaying?)._
> 
>  
> 
> _+1: Someone walks in on them and thinks it's real._
> 
>  
> 
> So to be very clear, this is a story about Bucky and the sexual trauma he suffered through being forced to rape other people. The other victims are not a focus of the story. Please do not read if the focus on Bucky's recovery is going to upset you in this context.
> 
> Everything that happens in this story is consensual (but Steve's choices about when to give consent are not always well-considered.) This is not a shining example of best practices in BDSM.
> 
> Title is from "Prison Sex" by Tool.
> 
> Many many thanks to everyone who cheered me on while writing this, on the meme and in emails, and to Ylixia and Medved for beta!

"I love you too," Bucky said, but miserably, like it was a confession dragged from him instead of his immediate answer to Steve's eighty-years-belated declaration.

"Buck?" Steve tried to keep his voice steady when he wanted to fight. 

He knew Bucky was telling the truth; he knew Bucky had always felt the same way, and he knew it wasn't any different now. He'd seen the way Bucky looked at him--he knew the things Bucky had done for him. Coming in was the latest and maybe most significant of all of them.

"If you don't want me--this--anything," Steve said, when Bucky just went on looking away. "We don't have to do anything about that. We can just... be the same as before. We always knew, didn't we?"

Bucky nodded, but finally looked up at Steve. His face was tense with a mixture of emotions Steve couldn't untangle, but Bucky's eyes devoured Steve, like he never wanted to look away.

"I just can't," Bucky said, and now his voice was the kind of flat and mechanical that other people always misinterpreted. It signified Bucky retreating into his programming, yes, but because he thought he was about to suffer the consequences of deviating from it. It was protective coloring. It meant Bucky was suppressing the impulse to beg for mercy--to apologize.

"If you can't, that's okay," Steve said, still keeping his voice matter of fact. A soothing tone would fall wrong on Bucky's ears when he was trying to show himself rational and functional. "Can you tell me the exact parameters we're working with here?"

A little of the tension went out of Bucky's face when Steve met him on his own ground.

"I can't engage in a physical relationship," Bucky said. 

Steve was startled by how definite that statement was. He didn't think he'd ever heard Bucky refuse outright to do anything. 

Steve could imagine--had already been imagining, though he tried not to--what could be motivating him to draw the line here. Bucky had been in a uniquely vulnerable position while Hydra had him. It was horrific--it was its own particular stream of atrocity out of everything that had happened to him--but it wasn't quite a surprise.

"Sex, I mean," Bucky clarified, holding his gaze like Steve needed to be convinced. "I can't--I can't, Steve. I won't. I can't."

Steve shook his head, offering his hands palm-up. "Not required, pal. I mean, I wouldn't have kicked you out of bed if you wanted to be there, but if you don't want to have sex, we won't. Period. I'm not ever going to pressure you on that, okay?"

There was another glimmer of relief, another faint relaxation from Bucky. "Not even--not even petting, Steve. Even a lot of touching could be too much. I just--I can't. It's not safe--I mean, I wouldn't feel safe."

Steve nodded. "Okay, Bucky. That's fine. I just want to be near you, you know? If that only means in the same room..."

"I think," Bucky said, and he took a decisive step in. "Can you hold really still? And keep your hands down."

Steve clasped his hands behind his back and didn't even breathe. Bucky closed the last of the distance between them and curled his right hand around the back of Steve's neck, his left hand hovering just off Steve's cheek as Bucky drew him in for a kiss.

It was just a press of lips, but it was Bucky. Steve had wanted this before he knew what it was he'd wanted, through years when he tried not to think about it, years of trying to get over it. He had never once thought he would have this. 

He clenched all the muscles of his belly, trying to hold back the shudder that wanted to course through him. Bucky needed him to hold still, and Steve wasn't going to ruin their first kiss by doing anything that might remind Bucky of the way he'd been abused.

It only lasted a second or two, really, and then Bucky let go of him and took a long step back. He was shaking, and Steve thought the same shivering frequency ran through them both. Bucky touched his fingers to his lips as Steve closed his own hand on the back of his neck.

Bucky's mouth widened suddenly into a grin, and seeing it, joy welled up in Steve and he laughed out loud. They'd kissed, after all this time. They were in love, and together, alive here in the 21st century. They could manage everything else.

"That's all," Bucky said, shaking his head but still smiling helplessly. "Steve, that might be all I can ever do."

"Never gonna ask for more than what you want to give me," Steve promised, his mouth stretched so wide it ached at the corners. His heart felt light enough to soar.

* * *

Steve worried a lot, especially in the first few days, that he would somehow make Bucky feel pressured. He watched carefully for any sign of Bucky compromising on the line he'd drawn, but Bucky held as firm as a maiden aunt. They exchanged closed-mouth kisses once or twice a day, always with Steve holding carefully still while Bucky darted in for that precious, brief touch of lips. 

Hugs were also permissible, as long as they were short, and even then Bucky tended to angle away from a full-body press, preferring to keep the body contact above the waist. He'd allow Steve to press close on the couch as long as they were side by side, but he never put his arm around Steve, and Steve kept his own hands firmly in his lap and didn't even try.

It was less than he had touched Bucky in their old lives. Bucky used to sling an arm around Steve's shoulders any chance he got, and they had made plenty of excuses to curl up together in bed or on a couch, neither of them acknowledging how much closer they wanted to be. 

They used to roughhouse, too. Bucky was always careful not to hurt Steve too much, although "too much" had had an elastic definition, depending on Steve's state of health and just how much he'd annoyed Bucky lately. They had swapped their share of bruises back then, and Steve had maybe treasured those marks as much as he had the stolen moments in Bucky's arms.

Bucky didn't spar with Steve, or anyone else, now. He trained for muscle strength, he did target practice, but he hadn't asked to practice hand-to-hand, and no one had pressed the point. He was a long way from being cleared for combat missions anyway, and he was certainly keeping himself fit and in practice.

So things were different now; they were bound to be. But now Steve could acknowledge that what he and Bucky felt for each other was love. He could tuck his shoulder against Bucky's while they watched a movie and know what it meant. 

He could also slip away from Bucky two or three or eight times a day to jerk off thinking of what else he'd like to be doing with Bucky. He let himself imagine everything he'd shied away from before--lavishing kisses over his skin, sucking him off with the same single-minded focus Bucky applied to a goddamn ice cream cone in the park, working him open so sweetly and slowly and then fucking him until he couldn't see straight... 

Bucky made it clear with a glance that he knew what Steve had been doing, every time Steve returned to him, but it didn't seem to offend him. Steve even thought that Bucky was doing the same sometimes, though not nearly as often. He tended to come back looking furtive and tense instead of pleasantly relaxed; the bad memories were obviously making this difficult for him, even alone. 

Still, Bucky's occasional sudden exits made Steve hope a little, in the back of his mind, that all of this was going somewhere. Of course he would wait as long as Bucky needed to wait--years, decades, whatever he needed. Steve would be gentle and careful; he would never push Bucky for anything.

But Bucky might want him enough, might heal enough, to have sex for real someday. Steve was honestly happy with what they had, but he also let himself have just a little spark of hope, carefully banked out of sight. If he waited long enough, something might change.

* * *

Steve woke up in the dark to his bedroom door slamming open. He sat up reflexively, tensed to fight in the fraction of a second before he recognized Bucky's silhouette stalking toward him.

"Down," Bucky snapped, and Steve dropped flat. It was Bucky, and Bucky never came into his room, especially at night. It had to be something important.

"Don't. Move." 

Steve froze as Bucky came around to the side of the bed. In that weird sharp consciousness of the middle of the night--startled awake and adrenaline-flooded but not really thinking beyond the immediate crisis yet--that seemed to make sense too. Sometimes Bucky needed him to hold very still. Bucky needed him to hold still now. He could do that for Bucky.

Bucky grabbed his wrists, and Steve made his arms limp as soon as Bucky's fingers closed. Bucky raised both Steve's arms above his head, using his left hand to pin Steve's wrists together on his pillow. Steve still didn't move at all, though his eyes went wide as Bucky shoved his right hand into his pajama pants. 

"Shut your eyes," Bucky ordered. "Don't you look at me."

Steve closed his eyes, but that didn't stop him from hearing the unmistakable sound of Bucky jerking himself off. It didn't stop the full body thrill that raced through him, the adrenaline rush of an attack turning into something sweeter. 

_Oh_ , he thought, his own cock twitching and starting to rise. _Already. Okay._

Bucky's metal hand bore down harder on his wrists, just enough to hurt. He felt Bucky shift closer, the pace of his hand on his cock audibly increasing. 

"That's right," Bucky growled. "Don't fight, just let me--"

Steve's push against Bucky's grip on the word _fight_ was more or less automatic; he was starting to wake up enough to wonder what the hell Bucky was doing here. Apart from the obvious. Was this what he needed to feel safe, in control?

Bucky pushed down hard on his wrists, digging metal fingertips in against the bone hard enough to bruise, even if it would heal away within minutes once he let go. Steve pressed his hands down into the pillow, not pulling away from Bucky's grip but letting Bucky know that he understood the order and would comply. Bucky seemed to get the message, because he took his hand away and shifted it down to Steve's face. Steve flinched from the sudden pressure of unyielding fingers around his jaw--he had a flash of memory, Bucky punching him with that hand. The grip only tightened, pulling his face toward Bucky. 

Steve opened his eyes to look, and Bucky snarled wordlessly, giving Steve a little shake.

"What'd I fucking say? Eyes closed. And open your mouth."

Steve shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, and was rewarded with the tip of Bucky's metal thumb probing between his lips. The tempo of Bucky's hand on his cock was getting faster. Steve was doing something right, winging it almost entirely without stopping to think.

Bucky's thumb tapped against Steve's front teeth, an unyielding impact that seemed to reverberate through his skull. "Don't make me break those pretty teeth. Open your mouth when I tell you to open your mouth."

Steve kept his jaw clenched for another second, his thoughts racing formlessly-- _why?_ and _what next?_ were the most of it, but he thought that if Bucky tried to put anything in his mouth like this, he really was going to have to deck him. If it wasn't that, though--as long as it didn't go that far he could cooperate. Steve let his mouth fall open, braced for Bucky to shove that thumb in, but it only traced along his lower lip. He knew from that touch that Bucky was respecting the same instinct about where the boundaries of this lay. 

Bucky's hand was moving fast now, and Steve had heard him jerk off enough times to know he was probably getting close. 

"Keep your mouth open for me," Bucky insisted. Steve had been planning on it, but he thought the order was as much a prompt to struggle as anything, so he turned his head away. 

Bucky's hand closed over his forehead this time, jerking his face back where Bucky wanted it, just in time for something--Bucky's jizz, Bucky was coming on him, Bucky was _getting off with him_ \--to splash against his cheek. He opened his mouth wider, and Bucky made a little broken sound. The next splash hit Steve's lower lip, and then his chin, his throat, his cheek again. He lost track, and the sensations blurred into a general sense that his face was filthy and wet. 

Bucky's metal hand let go, and then he felt Bucky's weight hit the edge of the bed. Bucky's right hand was swiping hastily at the wet spots on his face. 

"I'm sorry," Bucky whispered, in an entirely different tone from the orders he'd been giving a moment ago. "Shit, I'm sorry, Steve, I'm so--will you look at me, please, I'm--"

As soon as Steve opened his eyes Bucky's stream of words cut off completely. He bit his lip and tried to get all the come off Steve's face, not meeting Steve's eyes. 

"Hey," Steve said softly. "Hey, Bucky, it's okay. I'm not mad."

Bucky shook his head slightly and repeated, "I'm sorry." 

The next second he leaned down over Steve, kissing him in frantic little presses of closed lips, licking his cheek like he was still trying to clean him off. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, let me--let me make it up to you--"

Bucky made a move like he was going to shift down the bed. No matter what had just happened Steve still wasn't going to ask Bucky to suck his dick when Bucky had said they couldn't have sex--especially not when Bucky was frantically trying to apologize. 

"Hey, no, it's okay," Steve said, setting one hand cautiously on Bucky's arm. Bucky froze, and Steve resisted the impulse to jerk his hand away in response to Bucky's instinctive reaction. "You don't have to make anything up to me, but if you don't mind lying down with me and kissing some more..."

Bucky complied immediately, lying down before Steve could even scoot back to make room for him, so they were pressed tightly together, front to front. Steve's hard-on, which hadn't gotten the message about not imposing on Bucky, was pressed against Bucky's thigh. 

"Anything," Bucky repeated. "anything you want, Steve, I'm so sorry, I would never--please, just--"

"Shhh," Steve repeated, "it's okay, Buck, it's okay. Lemme just--" 

Bucky had lost the last of his clothes sometime while Steve's eyes were closed, so only Steve's underwear separated Bucky's softening cock from Steve's hard one. Steve ground his hips into Bucky's, giving himself some friction as he caught Bucky's mouth in a kiss. Bucky sighed into it, letting his mouth fall open to Steve's as he reached down and put his hand on Steve's ass, snugging them tighter together while Steve kept rocking against him. 

The tension was going out of Bucky's body as Steve kept moving. Whatever frantic fear had been driving that apology, it was being wiped away as Steve kissed him, licking curiously into the mouth that had always been closed to him before. Steve didn't need to know more than that right now. He had Bucky in his bed, Bucky's body pressed close to his, Bucky's hand holding on to him. Bucky had gotten off with him, on him. The way they'd gotten here was weird, but this was also exactly what Steve had always wanted. It didn't take him long to come, grinding against Bucky's hip, gasping into Bucky's mouth.

He pushed his boxers down and kicked them off when he was done, rolling over onto his back. "We'll talk in the morning, Buck, all right? It'll be okay. You got nothing to be sorry for."

Bucky snorted but scooted a little closer in the bed and didn't apologize again. "I was at least rude."

"Being polite to your friends is rudeness," Steve mumbled, already drowsy again, warm and sated and sure of his safety with Bucky close. "You know you don't have to please and thank you me, asshole."

"Idiot," Bucky mumbled back, voice going blurry with sleep. The last thing Steve heard before he fell asleep himself was a familiar snore.

* * *

Steve woke up with Bucky in his bed, and for a second it was nothing more than that. He gave a big startled smile, pushing up on his elbow to look over at him, and then he realized Bucky was naked. The night before crashed in on him. 

Bucky flinched awake as soon as Steve moved, and there was none of the groggy transition out of sleep Steve remembered from sharing an apartment with Bucky before the war. Bucky was instantly awake and clearly also instantly conscious of why he was in Steve's bed and what he'd done the night before. He darted one anxious look at Steve and then lowered his gaze, pressing himself into the pillow.

"Okay," Steve said, sitting up. "Let's get it over with. What was that?"

There was a second when he could see Bucky wanting to stay curled down small, and Steve's heart clenched before Bucky pushed himself up to sit facing Steve. He pulled the pillow into his lap--not, Steve thought, to cover himself, but for something to do with his hands. 

"I meant it when I said I can't," Bucky said quietly. "Not--not in a normal way. I don't get hard from normal things. I can't even jerk off, it just--nothing. Doesn't work."

Steve thought guiltily of just how many times he'd gotten off in the last week. He'd known Bucky knew, and he'd known Bucky wasn't doing so nearly as often. He hadn't realized _less often_ was not at all.

"Not... from normal things," Steve echoed. The picture was starting to come horribly clear. "But--last night--"

"I had a nightmare," Bucky said. He squeezed the pillow between his hands, flesh and metal, and then abruptly threw it away and rubbed his face roughly with both hands. "It was a nightmare."

"Okay, Buck," Steve said gently. 

Bucky gave a harsh, awful laugh and lowered his hands.

"I had a nightmare about raping you," Bucky said in his flattest voice, holding Steve's gaze defiantly. "About making you bleed and making you scream and--" 

Bucky cut himself off abruptly, shoving off the bed and stalking away, arms wrapped around his stomach like he was going to be sick, or like he'd just taken a punch in the gut. 

Steve felt a little sick and winded himself, but he could see it with awful clarity. Hydra had made Bucky a weapon; there was no reason to think that they'd only used him for missions as clean as a long rifle shot. Bucky had implied once or twice that he'd been made to torture people. They must have made him rape some of their victims, too, and they'd broken something in him so that that was the only release he could get, trying to make him eager to do what they wanted.

Steve looked at Bucky in the morning light, his head down and his shoulders curled in. He thought of all of Bucky's maiden aunt rules, and understood for the first time that they hadn't been meant to make Bucky feel safe, but to let Bucky make sure _Steve_ was safe, because Bucky didn't trust himself not to be that kind of weapon now. Bucky knew what he needed, and he didn't want to inflict that on Steve. He finally understood why Bucky had confessed his feelings like they were a terminal diagnosis; love was a cruel trap when the only way Bucky could get to sex was through brutal violence.

"You didn't hurt me, though," Steve pointed out, and Bucky's head jerked up at the sound of his voice, his face blank with shock.

"You had that nightmare and you came in here to get what you needed," Steve went on, feeling his way through the logic of it. "But you didn't actually hurt me at all. You didn't even hit me. If you just need to boss me around, make me obey--"

Bucky was already shaking his head. "That was--I was half-dreaming and all wound up and--and mad at you for having it so easy--"

Steve's face went red, and Bucky shook his head fiercely. "Just--so fucking frustrated from not being able to, and I was still hard from the nightmare, and I just thought, _I'm gonna do it_ and--then I did. I couldn't--I couldn't just do it by bossing you around. Without a nightmare to get me started, I'd--I couldn't, Steve. I couldn't."

"You could, though," Steve said. "If you were willing to hurt me."

Bucky jerked back from the words like they were poison.

"I know you don't want to," Steve said gently. "That's obvious--you've been trying so hard not to get this anywhere near me. But Buck, I don't want you to be this frustrated all the time. And if you can get there by pretending--"

"Not just pretending--"

"Sure, but if you can pretend you don't know that I'm really all right with it," Steve put in. 

Bucky's jaw actually dropped.

"Would you want me to just give in right away?" Steve asked, trying to picture how it would go--like last night, except it would actually hurt, but he could handle pain for Bucky's sake. "Would you want my mouth, or--"

" _Steve_ ," Bucky said sharply. "I'm not going to rape you. I'm not--it was a fucking nightmare."

Steve pushed the covers back and got up, stalking slowly toward Bucky, who watched him every step of the way but didn't back up a single step, even when Steve was kissing-close. 

"If you were happy not having sex with me, I wouldn't push it," Steve said patiently, leaning one shoulder against the wall and not closing the last inch of space between their naked bodies. 

"But if you're just trying to protect me from something unpleasant, I gotta tell you--there's not much I'm not willing to do for you. If you need to hurt me to get off, I'm not saying I'm looking forward to it for my own sake, but we could do that sometimes. It's just a matter of figuring out how to make it work."

Bucky's wary expression blended, in a familiar transition, directly into exasperation. "Steve, you don't know what it's like, you can't--you don't want this. I'd be--it's not just pain, this isn't some sparring match where you agree to lose."

"Right," Steve said. "Because it's also sex. I get that."

"It's also _rape_ ," Bucky insisted. "It's _cruel_ , the things I did to people--the things I--Steve, you don't want this, you don't even know what you're asking for."

"Okay," Steve said, trying to keep his patience over the flame of irritation that was starting to grow in him at Bucky's efforts to protect him. "Fine. So prove it to me. Do it once, show me how awful it is, and then I'll understand."

Bucky glared at him. He knew that trick well enough. 

"Listen to me," Bucky said, his words slow and distinct, over-enunciated in a way Steve had found infuriating even when his hearing had been bad enough to warrant it sometimes. "I'm telling you no. I don't want to. _No_."

Steve opened his mouth to argue further, and Bucky yelled, " _No_." 

Steve rocked back a step, recognizing the sudden wildness in Bucky's eyes as not just anger but fear. 

Steve took another step back, his frustration evaporating as he spread his hands in surrender. 

Bucky turned his face away, leaning his forehead against the window. "They made me do that to people, Steve. They forced me. It was..." Bucky shook his head. "You can't make me do it to you just because you don't want to feel bad about getting off whenever you want to."

Steve winced, but nodded, ducking his head. "I'm sorry, Buck. You're right. I was out of line."

He backed away, giving Bucky his space, but when he got to the bedroom door he turned his head and said quietly, "But if you ever change your mind--the offer stands."


	2. Chapter 2

For the next three days they didn't talk about it. Bucky doled out his careful kisses, one in the morning, one in the evening, and retreated to his own room to sleep. Steve jerked off twice during showers, trying not to think of anything at all. 

Much more often he found himself trying to imagine what Bucky might want--might need, in order to get off, but emphatically not want--to do to him. It was like picking at a scab: painful and a little sickening every time, but irresistible. If he could just get used to the idea, if he could somehow drain the horror from it, then maybe...

Three days after Steve woke up beside him, Bucky sat down on the couch at his side. He decisively turned off the baseball game Steve had been mostly ignoring while reviewing a stack of appearance requests. 

"There would have to be rules."

Steve felt a rush of adrenaline through his whole body, his mind serving up a barrage of the images that had occurred to him in the last three days. He leaned forward, tapping the stack of papers in his hands against the coffee table to neaten them up. He set them down and then sat back, twisting to face Bucky as he did. 

"Okay. What kind of rules are you thinking we should have?"

"Jesus fucking Christ," Bucky said under his breath, shoving his hair back with both hands. "This is why we have to have rules, you--you have to have a safeword, for starters. And a backup signal if you can't talk."

Steve nodded. He'd done a little research; he knew that was the basic minimum safety precaution. "Red for stop is easy to remember, right? Or I hold a bell or keys or something and if I drop them that's the signal?"

Bucky looked minutely relieved at this evidence that Steve had done some homework, though that still left plenty of visible tension.

"And if I ignore it you have to have backup," Bucky went on determinedly. "Which means we only do it here, and we call JARVIS in to supervise, tell him what the signals are. If I go over the line, he intervenes--he calls in somebody who can stop me."

Steve opened his mouth to argue that that would never happen and then shut it again. It would never happen, so there was no harm in setting up the precaution. If Bucky needed that to be sure Steve was safe, then they could do whatever Bucky needed. 

"JARVIS?" Steve tilted his head back as he spoke, though Tony had told him a thousand times JARVIS was equally present in every direction.

"Yes, Captain Rogers," came the familiar voice.

"Scan back through our conversation just now, please," Steve said. "Is this something you're able and willing to do?"

Unless specifically invoked, JARVIS kept temporary security recordings of private areas and monitored life signs but did not, in a conscious sense, observe. What Bucky wanted would require JARVIS to be personally involved in their sex life, which... well, better JARVIS than anyone else Bucky might demand as a referee. If they didn't have JARVIS for this they'd probably have to invent him; there wasn't a person--a human being--in the world who Steve could imagine asking that of.

"I have in the past served as a dungeon monitor," JARVIS informed them blandly, "or a supervisor of safety for... complicated private activities. What did you have in mind?"

Steve raised his eyebrows and tipped an open hand toward Bucky.

Bucky held Steve's gaze steadily as he said, "If Steve doesn't tap out, I'm going to rape him."

Steve stared right back, refusing to be scared off. JARVIS didn't say anything either.

"I'm going to hurt him," Bucky went on. "I'm going to make him beg me to stop. He's going to be scared, and he's not going to like what I'm doing to him. I can't make it good for him. I can't go easy, that's--not allowed."

Steve closed his hands into fists, hearing all the horrors packed into that hitch in Bucky's words. 

"We'll tell you when we're going to actually do it," Bucky went on. "It won't be just any time, but Steve won't know exactly when I'm going to attack him. Once I do, I won't stop unless he uses the safeword."

Steve nodded understanding. 

"Allow me to recommend that you always use the backup signal of an object in the Captain's hand," JARVIS said, still sounding completely unperturbed. "This will ensure that should Captain Rogers lose consciousness, he will give the signal automatically."

Bucky nodded grimly and said, "If you fucking black out on me without giving a safeword, Steve, we do not do this again. And another thing--" Bucky looked upward. "If I hit him in the face with a closed fist, either hand--if I punch him in the face, that is _it_ , you call it. Don't wait for him to signal. If I do that I am over the line and I need to be stopped, period. 

"And you fight," Bucky added, looking at Steve. "If I punch you in the face you _fucking fight me_ this time."

"If that's the rule," Steve agreed. 

He was just as glad to have it ruled out otherwise; Bucky punching him in the face wasn't going to be something he could   
tell himself was part of some play-pretend they were doing. That memory was much too vivid.

"Do you want me to not fight, otherwise? You said you'd attack me and you want me to beg--should I start begging right away?"

Bucky's frown this time was more thoughtful than frustrated. "You should--struggle. Resist. But you're pretending to be someone I can really hurt."

"Oh," Steve said, a question that had been niggling in his brain coalescing abruptly. "So I'm not me."

Bucky blinked at him. 

"It's not you raping me," Steve explained. "Is it? We're pretending I'm some stranger, and I don't know you. Right?"

Bucky's eyes widened slightly before he looked away, but he said very firmly, "Right. We don't know each other. I'll--I'll have a mask on. I'm not Bucky."

Steve made a mental note of that--there was a live wire there, something Bucky wanted--but Bucky was the one making the rules, so that was the rule. 

"Okay. We don't know each other. I'll struggle against you--do I switch to begging at some point? That's not really my natural style, Buck, you should tell me how you want that to go."

Bucky snorted, shaking his head, and a ghost of a smile flashed across his mouth. 

"I'll slap you. Right hand only, like this," Bucky mimed it, raising his right hand and tapping the backs of his fingers against Steve's cheek. "When I do that, you switch from fighting to begging, okay?"

Steve nodded, starting to sketch it out like a stage routine. First the fight, then the turn to pleading for mercy. And after that...

"Okay," Steve said. "Got it. What else?"

* * *

Bucky went out for a walk when the negotiations were over and didn't come back for three hours. He closed the door loudly enough for Steve to hear when he came back in, and then there wasn't another sign of his presence in the too-spacious apartment until Steve was headed to bed and stopped short in the hallway at the sight of Bucky's bedroom door standing open.

Steve hadn't seen the door to Bucky's room open since all of this started; Bucky's rules of careful propriety had meant that Bucky's bedroom was utterly off-limits to Steve. Bucky was sitting on the end of the bed now, side-on to the door. He was tapping around on a tablet, but he looked up when Steve hesitated at the doorway. 

"Hey," Steve said quietly, at a loss. 

Negotiating terms this afternoon had felt like a fight, the kind that was viciously restrained to words instead of blows. It had filled his head with the vivid sensations of Bucky being violent and cruel and above all angry. 

But this was Bucky, his Bucky, here and now. He looked tired, and Steve wanted to fix it somehow, or just to sit with him and share it. 

That, he thought, might be the worst thing about this whole plan: it forced him and Bucky to be on opposite sides, instead of sex being something they could do together. 

"Hey," Bucky echoed. "You want a kiss good night?"

Steve dredged up a smile. "Always, Buck."

Bucky nodded and set the tablet aside before walking over to the doorway. He braced his hands on the frame, standing exactly on the threshold, and Steve automatically put his hands behind him, tilting his head down toward Bucky's. There was a moment of hesitation--long enough, Steve thought, for both of them to be acutely aware of how useless the rules were now--and then Bucky pushed up to brush a light, dry kiss across Steve's mouth. 

It hurt like a sucker punch, to have that much and no more from this Bucky, his Bucky, who--

"Sleep in here tonight," Bucky said quietly, settling back onto his heels.

Steve's heart started beating fast--like they hadn't spent a night together already, like anything could happen--but he wanted it. Just to be close to Bucky, just to have whatever they could have. He nodded, and Bucky fell back a step, making space for him. Steve followed him to bed, and when Bucky undressed Steve followed suit, leaving his underwear on to match Bucky's.

"JARVIS," Bucky said quietly, flipping the covers back. "Lights."

The room dropped abruptly into darkness, but Steve had no trouble finding his way into Bucky's bed, scooting across the width of it to find Bucky already reaching for him. Their legs tangled together, Bucky's left arm curling around Steve's shoulder to pull him closer. Steve let himself be guided in until they were lying face to face, hips still angled apart.

Steve closed his eyes and found his way to another light kiss, brushing his lips across Bucky's. Bucky sighed into it and kissed him back just as chastely.

Bucky pressed his forehead to Steve's. "Did you ever--did you ever think about what it'd be like if you got the guts to make a move on me?"

"Once or twice," Steve said. "Per day, since I was fifteen."

Bucky laughed a little, bitterly, and said, "Yeah. Yeah. I never imagined the other night, though."

"Well, Buck." Steve raised a hand to his cheek, brushing his thumb over the downturned corner of Bucky's mouth. "Life's got a funny way of surprising us."

"Yeah, but the hell with that," Bucky insisted. "It should've been--I _wanted_ , I'll bet you wanted--" 

Bucky kissed him again, metal arm tightening around Steve's shoulders as his lips parted against Steve's, his tongue slipping out tentatively. 

"Yeah," Steve agreed, desire stirring as he slid his hand along Bucky's jaw to cradle the nape of his neck, pushing further into the kiss, licking cautiously at Bucky's open mouth. "Me too."

It would have been like this, when they were teenagers, or in some blackout hotel room in London or some tent in a dark sleeping camp. It should have been like this, their arms around each other, their mouths touching sweetly but with so much hunger, tasting each other, learning the shapes of each other. Not the frantic, apologetic yielding of the other night, but a mutual exploration.

Steve was hard before long, squirming a little because he didn't know if he should press in against Bucky or pull away. He let his hand slide down to the dip of Bucky's waist in silent question. 

Bucky groaned against his mouth. "Yeah? Do you want..."

Steve caught his breath, taking his hand off Bucky completely to press against his own cock. "Anything, Buck, I don't even care, I just want you."

"You got me, Stevie," Bucky said against his mouth, pushing him onto his back. 

Steve went where Bucky wanted him, letting Bucky shove Steve's hand aside to slip his own right hand into Steve's boxers, curling for the first time around his cock. Steve couldn't help shoving up into that grip. He'd imagined it so many times, wanted this for so long. Bucky bit down on Steve's lip and then licked gently over it, and Steve shoved his own boxers down to make room as Bucky started to stroke him, his chest still rocking down against Steve's as they kissed. Steve hooked one leg over Bucky's thigh to keep him from pulling away too far.

Bucky's hand worked over him steadily, quickly finding the way Steve liked to be touched, falling into just the right rhythm to make him arch and gasp. 

"That's how you like it, right?" Bucky whispered. "Listened to you jerk off enough times, that's--"

Steve writhed, a thousand memories hitting him at once of jerking off knowing Bucky was close enough to hear if he was awake. It made every touch more intense to know that Bucky had been listening, paying just as much attention to Steve as Steve ever had to Bucky the nights he heard those furtive movements--that Bucky had _remembered_ the same way Steve remembered. 

He thrust hard into Bucky's fist, slinging one arm around Bucky's neck to hold him still for a rough, thorough kiss. Bucky jerked him through it, taking him right over the edge without hesitating. Steve came in pulses over Bucky's fingers, splattering both of them with come, and there was a moment of drifting perfect contentment.

Then Bucky settled down against him, shifting to one side as he did so he wasn't resting directly against Steve's cock, and Steve was aware of the cloth of Bucky's boxers against his hip. Bucky's cock was a soft weight behind them, resting heavy and motionless against Steve's body.

Steve twisted under him, getting his hand on Bucky's hip. "Can I..."

He didn't know what to ask for--he couldn't return the favor, but he still wanted his turn to touch.

"Yeah," Bucky said, almost laughing. "Sure, Stevie, give it your best shot. If you can--"

Bucky cut off when Steve shoved him onto his back and slipped his fingers into Bucky's boxers, tugging them down. 

"I'm not taking a shot at anything," Steve said, although God, _God_ , if he somehow _could_ make it work for Bucky like this, if they didn't have to go through with tomorrow's plan... 

"I just want to touch you, all right? Tell me if you don't want that."

Bucky moved under him, pushing and kicking his boxers the rest of the way off and settling himself under Steve, spreading his legs to give Steve access. "All yours."

Steve braced on his left arm, kissing Bucky until his mouth lost that wry, resigned twist that Steve could hear better than he could see. He let his right hand rest on Bucky's hip, just stroking over the skin there, until he felt Bucky really relax under him, not just that deliberate self-exposure. When Bucky's mouth was easy under his, kissing him back just for the pleasure of kissing, Steve shifted his hand in, across the slight concavity between the jut of Bucky's hipbones, to curl around Bucky's cock.

It was just as soft as it had been all along, a limp weight in his hand like a sleeping body, unresisting. Bucky's breath went out of him at the touch in a long shuddering sigh. 

Steve lifted his head a little, keeping his hand still. "Okay?"

Bucky nodded, his hair shushing against the pillow. "Just weird. Like touching a scar."

"Huh," Steve said, considering how much more of Bucky's body he'd never seen or touched before tonight. He put his right hand back down on the bed, supporting his weight as he shifted down and to the side, pressing his mouth to Bucky's left shoulder. He got all metal on the first try, but he redirected until his tongue was on the seam between metal and flesh, and Bucky's breath was shaking out of him all over again. 

Steve closed his eyes and explored with his lips and tongue, finding every little radiating scar that trailed away from Bucky's shoulder, kissing and licking and nuzzling as he mapped this new terrain. Bucky squirmed under him, his breath speeding, but he never pushed Steve away. When Steve curled his left hand around Bucky's cock--still just as soft--Bucky pushed into the touch unhesitatingly. 

Steve explored Bucky's cock with his fingers while his mouth lingered on Bucky's scars. It was strange if he thought of this as sex--and more strange if he thought of this as not-sex, like he was holding Bucky's dick for him to piss. It felt more private than sex somehow, more naked; it felt like he'd peeled back Bucky's skin and reached inside, had his hand around some organ that wasn't ever supposed to be exposed. 

He couldn't stop working his fingers over it, learning the weight and shape in his hand. He reached down to cup his balls as he picked his head up enough to say, "Bucky?"

"Yeah," Bucky said, a little breathless. "Please, I don't know, just--"

Steve dropped one more kiss on the topmost scar on Bucky's shoulder and then shifted down to lie between his legs, licking gently at Bucky's cock, brushing his lips down the soft length of it. Tomorrow, if everything went according to plan--but tomorrow wasn't tonight, and this was something entirely different from whatever that would be. 

Steve opened his mouth and took Bucky's cock inside, feeling the limp weight of it as something new all over again when it rested on his tongue. He sucked delicately, with a painfully tender awareness of the need to be gentle, and Bucky squirmed under him and slid a hand into his hair. Steve hesitated, but Bucky dug his fingers in without pushing Steve away. He gave another suck, swallowing around Bucky's cock, and then pulled off to lick and kiss the head until Bucky was moving restlessly under him and finally tugged up on his hair.

Steve obeyed immediately, crawling up Bucky's body to kiss him again; the forceful motion of Bucky's tongue in his mouth felt strange after the laxity of his cock, but it was all Bucky. All his. 

Neither of them said a word as their kisses slowed, and they fell asleep with their mouths still brushing together, holding each other close.

* * *

The day started off normal. Steve got out of Bucky's bed, which Bucky had already vacated before Steve woke up, so it wasn't much different from waking up on any other morning. He went for a run and showered and ate breakfast. He didn't have to think during that part of his routine, and he was dimly but comfortably aware of Bucky's path periodically intersecting his as Bucky went through his own morning routine--first breakfast, katas, the meditation thing he did where his low-voiced mantra was _this is really fucking stupid but it works_ , and then second breakfast before he showered. 

During and after breakfast Steve read his Avengers briefing packet, with updates on the current status of every known possible hotspot and--more worryingly--updates on the known holes in their intelligence apparatus, sketching out the possible shapes of the unknown-unknowns. The alert status, indicated right at the top of the secure email, was _Eh, could be worse_ , so it didn't call for immediately canceling the day's plans.

But that still left... the day's plans. Shortly after Steve closed his laptop and started considering how to keep himself busy until something happened, Bucky walked into the living room. He met Steve's eyes, his expression serious but with a certain animation Steve knew, the faint vibration of Bucky anticipating--not a mission. A fight. 

Bucky set down a little silver sleigh bell next to Steve's laptop, and then he turned and walked out of the room without speaking. Steve closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. It was time. They were doing this. 

He bent over and untied his shoes, slipping out of them and pulling his socks off to tuck inside. Bucky hadn't made it a rule, but he'd said Steve ought to be barefoot. Steve's toes curled against the carpet just thinking of being caught barefoot, having to fight barefoot--but that was the point. He was about to willingly put himself at a disadvantage. He was about to lose a fight so Bucky could win, and get off on winning.

Steve reached out and picked up the little bell. It was barely bigger than a marble, and he could hold it tucked against his palm with just his ring and pinky fingers. When he shook it the ball bearing inside made a muffled metallic _tock_ , nothing like the bright jingle that would signal that Steve had dropped the bell and needed Bucky to stop.

"JARVIS," Steve said, tilting his chin up. "Game on."

"Understood, Captain Rogers," JARVIS returned. "Commencing active monitoring."

Sometime in the next twenty minutes, if Steve didn't drop the bell before they got that far, Bucky would attack him. Steve tried to sit still and wait for it, but he lasted less than a minute before he got up. He put his laptop away on a shelf and then went into the kitchen, unnaturally aware of the coolness of the tile under his bare feet. He opened the fridge and then closed it hastily. This was no time for--he couldn't--Steve shook his head at himself, and then for something to do with his hands he got a glass and filled it with water. He was taking a sip as he turned, and he nearly choked on it.

Bucky was--the _Winter Soldier_ was standing in the kitchen doorway, wearing the rigid black mask over the lower half of his face, dark goggles over his eyes, his one-sleeved leather jacket and black combat trousers tucked into his boots. Steve's whole body went on alert, instinctively seeing Bucky--the Soldier--as a threat; his posture radiated menace. 

Steve pressed his fingers tighter around the bell in his left hand, bouncing a little on his heels just to make himself stay where he was. Bucky was supposed to attack him; Steve was supposed to wait for Bucky--who wasn't Bucky right now, who was a stranger, the Soldier--to make the first move. 

The Soldier took one slow, ominous stride into the kitchen, and Steve threw the glass of water at his face, lunging after it to attack. There was a shattering sound--the Soldier had batted the glass away with his left hand--but Steve was barely conscious of it. He hit the Soldier squarely, leading with his shoulder. 

The Soldier wasn't budged by the tackle, and the impact was jarring enough to remind Steve that he was supposed to be resisting like a normal person, not like himself. He tried to figure out how to fight less hard even as Bucky caught one of his wrists and his metal arm looped around Steve's neck. Steve was so distracted by gauging how much force to put behind his movements that he was genuinely off-guard when Bucky spun him around, slamming him up against a counter with his arm twisted behind his back, pinned in place by Bucky's hips. 

Bucky ground in against him, letting Steve feel the hard length of his cock pressed against Steve's ass. Steve shivered, caught between eager enthusiasm and the role he was supposed to be playing; his next attempt to struggle was more like grinding back. Bucky growled, slamming his hips bruisingly hard against Steve's ass and tightening his grip on Steve's throat.

Instinct took over. Steve hooked a foot around Bucky's calf and threw himself backward, hoping to slam him against the wall. Bucky twisted into Steve's momentum, bearing him down to smack hard against the kitchen floor, and Steve's flailing right hand crashed down directly on a piece of broken glass. 

The pain of it vanished into the adrenaline rush as he writhed under Bucky's weight, left fist clenched tight and pressed against the floor as he tried to push himself up. He jerked back, trying to slam his head into Bucky's mouth, and only succeeded in smacking his head painfully against the mask. 

Bucky grabbed his hair, shoving Steve's head back down and stopping just short so that Steve could see the glass littering the floor there. He couldn't move away from Bucky's grip without cutting his face. He struggled anyway, fighting for leverage, and then all of a sudden Bucky's hand was off his head. Steve reared up under him, fighting free just in time for Bucky's hand to slap down over his face again--forehand, not the backhand-signal. 

There was something in his palm that burst on contact with Steve's jaw.

Steve gasped automatically, and it was like breathing fire. He couldn't open his eyes against the stabbing pain, and it seemed to sear his throat--gas, _gas_. 

His lungs seized up. That was worse than the literally blinding pain--it was the familiar old sensation of his asthma kicking in when it was never supposed to come back. He heard, from a long way off, his own impotent gasping. He tried to push up against the weight on his back and found himself slammed down on the ground, face up this time. He looked up through pain-filled streaming eyes and saw a blurry dark shape--Bucky--the Soldier--looming over him, straddling him and bearing down hard on him, his weight adding to the horrible constriction of Steve's lungs.

"Open your hand and this stops," the Soldier growled from behind his mask.

Steve managed to haul in a whistling breath, squeezing both fists instinctively tighter. He couldn't let the Soldier take--but no--another hard-won breath--no, it wasn't the chip, it was the bell. This was a game, only a game/ Bucky had gassed him for a fucking _game_ and now he wanted Steve to admit defeat. 

"Fuck you," Steve managed on a reedy breath.

He surged up furiously under Bucky, keeping his left hand clenched and trying to claw at his goggles with the right. He succeeded only in smearing vivid red blood over the lenses. Steve's eyes were still burning horribly, his skin stinging where the stuff had touched; Bucky deserved a faceful of whatever this shit was that still had his lungs in a vice-grip, but Steve couldn't get the mask off him.

Bucky caught his wrist--both his wrists--easily, pinning him down like--Steve was still struggling to breathe--like he was small, like he was helpless, which he _never had been_ , not really. He could always fight. He could fight now, and he did, focusing on trying to get his knees up, to spoil this for Bucky, whose cock was hard against him because that asshole was _enjoying_ this.

But Steve still couldn't catch a full breath. His eyes were still streaming, and every move he made Bucky countered easily, grinding him into the floor, rutting against him while Steve struggled furiously. He felt exhausted and dizzy, vision going sparkly-bright, when Bucky reared up. He took most of his weight off Steve and let go of Steve's left wrist. 

Steve tried to brace his fist against the floor for leverage, and then the back of Bucky's right hand cracked against his cheek, snapping his head to the side. He lay completely still for a moment, half stunned. He listened to himself breathing in creaky gasps as the pain of it radiated from his cheek in adrenaline-pulsing waves.

"Don't make me hit you again," Bucky growled above him, tapping his fingers under Steve's chin.

Bucky had hit him with the back of his hand. Slapped him across the face. That meant Steve had to stop fighting. That meant he had to beg when he could barely breathe. 

"I can't," Steve managed, before he had to stop and haul in another strangled breath, letting his eyes close against the lingering pain there. "I can't--"

He wasn't supposed to say Bucky's name. "Please."

"Please what," the Soldier demanded. He was grinding against Steve's stomach again, letting Steve feel the hard weight of his cock. Steve knew what was going to happen next. He knew what he was supposed to do to make it happen, and his throat felt like it was only drawing tighter. 

He struggled for a few more whistling breaths, miserably, shamefully aware that his eyes were still watering from the gas, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Please don't--please--let me go."

"No," the Soldier said, so casually that Steve almost didn't process the word before the metal hand yanked at the collar of his t-shirt, tearing it open all the way down, exposing his bare chest to the fully-clothed--armored--Soldier. 

Steve yanked his arms down, wanting instinctively to cover himself from that dark-lensed blood-streaked gaze. The Soldier was faster again, catching both of Steve's hands with his metal one while his right hand pawed at Steve's chest, tweaking a nipple roughly. He pressed down on Steve's chest and Steve bucked under him, struggling not to get away but just to breathe, his wheezes turning again to frantic gasps. Even when the Soldier returned to merely running that proprietary hand over Steve's chest he couldn't make himself breathe any more deeply.

When the Soldier yanked on his other nipple Steve let out a wordless cry of pain. He couldn't fight--he wasn't strong, he was--he'd lost, he'd _lost_ and there was nothing he could do except beg. 

"Please. Please, don't, it hurts, don't, I can't--I can't breathe, please--"

Something wet dripped down his cheek, feeling different from the tears still dripping from his eyes even now that the pain in them was fading. It took him a moment to realize it was something else: blood, dripping from his right hand where the Soldier was holding it up overhead. 

Something about the sight of his own blood--that open wound held in the Soldier's shining metal hand--sent a bolt of helpless fear through him, making his lungs clamp tighter and sending a new rush of tears from his eyes. He shook his head wildly as the Soldier's hips pressed down against him, making him feel the Soldier's cock. 

"No, no, no, please, no, please, not this, not _this_ \--"

The Soldier's hand rose off Steve's chest and three fingers shoved directly into his mouth, pounding against the top of his throat. The penetration cut off his words and made him gag, his whole body spasming with the reflex.

"Not this?" The Soldier's voice was taunting, his fingers jabbing harder into the back of Steve's mouth. His grinding against Steve's stomach turned to blatant thrusting, shoving his cock against Steve through his clothing. "Not this?"

Steve tried to shake his head, but the Soldier's fingers jammed into his mouth anchored him. He moaned around them, trying to beg--he was supposed to beg--he was--tears were leaking steadily from his eyes and he still couldn't breathe properly. When another drop of blood hit his cheek he sobbed loudly and then coughed, and the fingers in his mouth shoved a little deeper, making him choke around them.

The fingers withdrew just before Steve actually started to retch, smearing spit-wetness over his cheek to mix with the tears and blood already there as Steve gasped for breath. The Soldier was already moving, though, his hips--the bulge at the front of his black trousers--looming closer to Steve's face. The metal hand holding Steve's hands together loosened its grip. 

"Keep those hands up so I don't have to hit you again."

Steve wanted to fight but he couldn't fight--no. He wasn't supposed to fight because it was Bucky, because this was the plan. Bucky folded Steve's right hand shut to match his left, pressing his fingers firmly to his blood-wet palm. "Hold that."

Pressure, Steve thought vaguely. Elevate. But mostly he was aware that both his hands were shaking--the one on the left was making a strange _tock-tock-tock_ sound, as if it were metal under the skin. Blood was dripping down his wrist, and there was blood on both of Bucky's hands as he unfastened his pants. 

Steve's breath was still whistling. He shook his head--he couldn't, he couldn't, he wouldn't be able to breathe.

"No," he gasped, "No, please--" but he wasn't supposed to say Bucky's name, and Bucky had his cock out. 

It was hard--Bucky was hard, that was--that was what this was for, but he was smearing Steve's blood over his cock as he stroked himself. Steve had a sudden clear memory in the middle of everything, of Bucky saying _you'll be scared_ and the way Steve had ignored those words completely. Bucky had tried to tell him. 

Steve's hands were shaking hard, blood splattering from the right, the metal clutched in his left hand rattling constantly. He could drop the bell and Bucky would stop, but--he was almost done, and Steve could manage for a few more minutes. Even if he couldn't breathe, he could hold on. He could. But when the head of Bucky's cock touched his lips Steve twisted his face away, clamping his lips shut and trying to breathe through his nose.

Bucky's metal hand caught his chin and squeezed in on his jaw as Bucky loomed closer, the head of his cock pressing against the tight seam of his lips. Steve couldn't smell anything but blood and sex.

Bucky growled, "Open up, kid. Don't make me hurt you worse."

"No," Steve gasped, opening his mouth to heave in the deepest breath he could force into his clenched-tight lungs. Bucky's metal thumb jammed in between his back teeth like a bit, forcing his mouth open. Steve tried to keep protesting, but the words came out clotted and confused as the head of Bucky's cock pressed between his lips. Steve's tongue glanced off it, still trying to from the word _no_. He tasted pre-come and his own blood and his stomach heaved, but his mouth opened wider, letting Bucky's cock in. 

It was thick and hard (so different from--no, he wouldn't remember that now, this wasn't Bucky except for how it was), heavy and hot. It filled his mouth, the head shoving all the way to the soft palate and making him gag around it from more than just the taste of blood and bitterness. It pulled out of his mouth, smearing pre-come over his lips again, and he knew better than to try to close his mouth. He was too busy gasping another desperate breath than to fight the metal fingers holding his teeth apart. The cock pushed back into him again, rubbing over his tongue as he tried to spit it out, to speak, to beg, to breathe.

One more rough thrust and then there was a low groan from behind the mask (familiar, so familiar--that was _Bucky_ , that was Bucky on the verge of coming, Steve knew that sound--) and the Soldier's hand was moving fast on his cock, splattering Steve's face with spit and blood before the jizz spurted out to land across his still-parted lips, stinging his streaming eyes, adding to the layer of filth that covered him. 

Steve tried to blink his eyes clear so he could look up at the blood-streaked mask that covered the Soldier's--Bucky's--face. There was no sound but his own labored breathing and the constant rattling of the metal in his left hand.

Bucky tugged off his goggles and mask at the same time, dropping the goggles from his right hand and mask from his left. There was a smudge of blood on his forehead, cut off sharply where his goggles had been. He looked dazed, his eyes showing only a narrow rim of blue around pools of black, and for the space of a few breaths he just stared down at Steve staring up at him. Steve grew more and more aware of the cooling mess on his face and the painful tightness in his lungs, until Bucky shook his head a little and reached into his pocket, pulling out an inhaler.

He held it toward Steve's mouth and Steve flinched, turning his face away on reflex. Bucky's face tightened and he put the inhaler to his own lips, releasing a puff of gas into his own mouth with an audible hiss.

"It's okay, it's medicine," Bucky said, and his voice sounded strange without the Soldier's growl, the mask's flatness.

Bucky grabbed Steve's left hand and tugged his cramped-tight fingers open, letting the bell drop to the floor in a weirdly bright clattering jingle. Bucky folded Steve's fingers around the inhaler and pushed it gently toward his face. "Push the button and inhale at the same time, it'll help."

It was Bucky. Of all the things Bucky would never lie to him about, medicine for his breathing had to be near the top of the list. Steve brought his left hand clumsily to his mouth, pressed the button and gasped in as hard as he could. The stuff tasted cool, and he could feel it working almost instantly. His next breath was deeper, and the next one after that hardly whistled at all. 

"Good," Bucky said, softly. "That's better. That's airway and breathing, now let's do something about all this blood, huh, pal?" 

Bucky knelt up, taking hold of Steve's right hand with his left while he tore open a bandage with his teeth. It was smaller than a combat pressure bandage but about as thick, and Bucky pressed it firmly to Steve's palm, securing the adhesive straps to the back of Steve's hand. He looked down at Steve with a little smile and said, "What were you doing throwing a glass at me? That wasn't part of the plan, Stevie, you weren't supposed to get cut up like this."

"Improvising," Steve said, trying to muster up a smile to match Bucky's. It felt stiffly mechanical, and made him even more conscious of the mess all over his face. "Sorry."

"No, hey, hey," Bucky said softly, lowering Steve's hand to rest on his chest. Steve looked away--didn't want to see that look in Bucky's eyes, kindness or pity or whatever it was. That look he got when Steve came off the worse in a fight he should have known not to get into. 

"Steve," Bucky said gently, and Steve squeezed his eyes shut. Something touched his face. It was soft, kind of smelled like another bandage, but Bucky was using it to wipe off Steve's face. "Hey, pal, come on, I told you it was going to be scary, I--"

"I need a shower," Steve said abruptly. 

He didn't have to not fight anymore; he had both hands free again. He pushed back, sliding out from under Bucky and getting to his feet, waving his left hand blindly to ward Bucky off as he jumped up too. His right arm was striped with still-wet blood that had dripped down from his palm to his armpit, and when he looked down it was smeared lividly over his side and chest. "I just--I need a shower."

"Steve," Bucky followed him out of the kitchen. "Hey, don't take off like--"

"It's fine, I'm not mad," Steve insisted, still not looking back. It wasn't even a lie; whatever the tangled mess in his chest was, none of it felt as clean as anger. "I just--I need a shower, Buck, just give me a minute."

"Okay," Bucky said, like he actually had any goddamn say in it now that they were done with this thing. "I'll be right here, okay, Stevie?"

"Sure," Steve said, and then he was shutting the door of his bedroom firmly behind him--his turn to play the maiden aunt, now that it was too goddamn late. He went straight on to his bathroom without stopping and shut that door too. Something made him stop to look--he didn't actually bother closing it half the time, maybe that was why--and he noticed that this doorknob had an actual twist-lock instead of just being invisibly, electronically securable. 

He couldn't ask JARVIS for anything right now. 

He didn't need to lock the door. It had only been a game, and it had been a game with rules, and Bucky wasn't going to hurt him now (if Bucky meant to hurt him, a locked door wouldn't stop him). Steve didn't need to lock the door, didn't even need to close it. He didn't know why he was just standing there transfixed by the fact that he could lock it with just a twist of his fingers, without having to speak or ask. 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head, and turned away without locking the door. 

He shrugged out of his ruined t-shirt and saw the motion echoed in the mirror. He turned his back decisively to the mirror and started the shower, testing the water temperature with his hand even though it always turned on at precisely the temperature that he liked. He stepped in as soon as he was sure, pulling the shower door shut and turning his face into the pounding spray.

He opened his mouth to the water, swishing and spitting it out, swishing and swallowing. He licked his lips and ran more water into his mouth, raised both hands to rub at his face. He opened his eyes at the rough, muffled touch of his right hand--the bandage, right. The pain of the cut had settled into an ache, and he knew it would be nearly closed already, though it would take a few hours to heal fully. 

He fumbled the soaked bandage off and looked down at the angry red line on his palm, blood rinsing down over it and then running clear. That was it, that was all he'd gotten hurt. Even that was his own fault--he wasn't supposed to throw the glass, they hadn't negotiated that. He was only supposed to play at struggling. He was supposed to let Bucky take him without really fighting back, and he'd failed right out of the gate, and that was why he'd gotten hurt. Bucky might not even have used the gas if Steve hadn't been fighting so hard--he'd done it to scare him, to subdue him. 

He'd said, when they negotiated-- _I will constrict your breathing_ \--and that was what he had meant. He hadn't said _I'll put my hand on your throat and choke you_ , and if that was what Steve had pictured--that was Steve's fault. Bucky had said _I'll scare you, you'll hate it, you'll want me to stop_ and Steve hadn't been ready for that at all. It wasn't Bucky's fault. It was his. 

The water was still running down hot over him, but his hands were shaking. The healing cut hurt more when Steve clenched his fists tight, but he couldn't make himself let go. 

It wasn't Bucky's fault. Bucky hadn't wanted any of this. Steve had asked for it--pushed Bucky into it, even when Bucky was scared of it. _They forced me_ , Bucky had said. 

He hadn't wanted to hurt Steve. He hadn't wanted to hurt anyone. He had tried to tell Steve what it would be like, and Steve hadn't listened, and that was why he'd gotten hurt. It wasn't Bucky's fault. Bucky shouldn't have to see him--

Some tiny sound made Steve whirl to face the door, the _unlocked_ door--but there was nothing there. He stood there for a long time with the water falling over his right side. His fists were clenched and his body braced as he stared toward the door of the bathroom, waiting for, for--

Nothing was coming. No one was coming. Of course Bucky wouldn't hurt him. Bucky hadn't wanted to, it had been _Steve_ who--it was his own fault, and it was only a game anyway. He'd gotten hurt worse playing stickball when they were kids; he'd taken worse injuries and shrugged them off on a dozen missions. Why couldn't he take his eyes off the door now? Why did he feel so--

_Why hadn't he fought harder?_

But no, that was stupid, that was--he shouldn't have fought even as hard as he did, he shouldn't have--

He noticed eventually that he was having trouble breathing because he had both fists pressed against his mouth. A while after that he noticed that he was on his knees, shaking, even though the water was pouring down over him just as hot as ever. He wasn't even hurt. He made himself lower his hands, looked again at the line on his palm--it was only pink already. The blood had all washed away. Pretty soon there would be no mark at all. 

He had known he would heal from anything Bucky did to him, and he had been right. He was fine. Why was he-- _why hadn't he fought?_

He could still taste blood and come in his mouth. He spit and spit and then he thought about doing that again--because if Bucky wanted it again he should say yes, he had to say yes. It had been his idea, and Bucky needed it. 

His stomach heaved a little as he remembered that cock shoving into his mouth--but it was Bucky's, he had wanted it, he would have given anything for it just yesterday, to have Bucky hard in his mouth, getting off on him like that. What kind of asshole was he to ask Bucky for exactly what he got and then feel sick over it? What kind of--weak--why hadn't he-- _why_ \--

Steve reached up for the soap, found it and dug his fingernails into the soft bar. He shoved his fingers into his mouth, scrubbing over his tongue and teeth even as he gagged a little--from the taste, from the feeling of fingers in his mouth--but at least soap didn't taste like blood or come or gas or his own fucking stupidity. His eyes were watering again from the taste of the soap, but he just turned his face up into the spray, rinsed his mouth and spat and rinsed and spat and spat. He scrubbed the soap over his face, for good measure, down over his throat and his chest, everywhere the Soldier had--Bucky had--everywhere he had been touched. 

He jumped at another noise and realized that he was able to hear it because the shower had shut off. He didn't remember that happening. He must have shut it off, although he was still holding the soap in his left hand, gripping so hard it was squeezing through his fingers. He made himself drop it, and a while after that, when he started to feel cold and aware of his nakedness, he made himself stand up and grab a towel. 

Steve rubbed himself dry, yanking the door open before he could think about what might be on the other side--but no one was there. It was his bedroom, empty and silent. He got dressed again. He'd just done this a few hours ago, and now he was doing it again, putting on different versions of the same off-duty clothes. He came up short when he put his socks on, remembering that his shoes were still out by the couch, his socks still tucked inside them. He should take these socks off, put those ones back on.

But that would mean walking out of his bedroom barefoot. Steve glanced toward the closet, thought of putting on dress shoes, hiking boots. For a wild, yearning second he was tempted to get his uniform boots, gaudy red armored leather, and fasten them halfway to his knees.

He was tempted to pick up his shield. For a moment he wanted it more than anything, more than _air_ \--to shelter behind that curve of metal, to take up that extension of himself that could protect him from anything.

No, that was--he hauled in a deep breath--that was stupid, that was--he didn't need his shield or his boots. He didn't need any of that. He was at home, and there was no danger here. No enemy. 

He just needed his shoes. They were right outside, he would just get them and then he'd be fine. He just needed his shoes. He wasn't hurt; he was fine. He wasn't mad at Bucky. He just needed his shoes.

He took a breath and told himself he just had to do it. He yanked the bedroom door open and all but ran through, only to stop short. He was much too surprised by the sight of Bucky looking at him over the back of the couch. 

His hair was down. It had been tied back before--there had been nothing to pull when Steve was grabbing at his mask. That was sensible, when he knew he would be attacking at close quarters.

"Hey," Bucky said softly. He'd changed his shirt, too; it was long-sleeved, pale blue. Soft. "Okay if I sit here?"

"Yeah," Steve said automatically. Of course it was okay. Bucky lived here, and that was his usual spot on the couch. "Yeah, of course." 

Steve managed to walk toward Bucky as if everything was normal, as though he didn't want to--

He saw, as he came around the couch, that there was a glass of water set out on his side of the coffee table. He closed his right hand, pressing two fingers against the line of the healing cut. He was strangely, intensely tempted to pick the glass up, to throw it, but--he didn't need to do that. He shouldn't even have done it the first time. His mouth felt dry suddenly. He should take a drink, he should...

"Did you want your shoes?" Bucky asked. 

He had a tablet in his lap; he wasn't even looking at Steve. He was wearing red pajama pants with little white stars all over them. Someone had bought those as a joke for Steve, but they'd found their way into Bucky's possession shortly after he came in. Bucky had his feet tucked under him. Steve couldn't see whether he was wearing shoes or not. 

Steve didn't know how long he'd been just standing there at the end of the couch looking at that glass of water. Now he redirected his gaze lower, and there were his shoes. He'd come out here to get his shoes. He sat down at his end of the couch and put them on, fighting to keep his gaze on his hands when he kept glancing sideways at Bucky. 

Bucky wasn't moving, staying perfectly still in his corner of the couch. Bucky was good at holding still. Snipers had to be.

Steve's hands kept slipping on the laces of his shoes, and his chest felt more and more compressed the longer he stayed bent over. He jerked upright when Bucky moved, but all Bucky did was reach out his metal hand to set something down on the coffee table, sliding it down to Steve. 

It stopped exactly at the corner: the inhaler.

"Press the button and breathe in, okay?" Bucky said, his left hand still resting on the coffee table.

Steve realized after another beat that it wasn't just a problem of bending over: his chest felt tight even now that he was sitting up. It felt like an asthma attack, like the gas, like--

He picked up the inhaler, pressed the button and breathed in. The cool feeling of it rushed through his chest again, opening his lungs. He kept it at his lips while he drew in a deep breath and then another. 

"Thanks," Steve said, setting the inhaler back down on the table. "I guess the gas--"

"No," Bucky said quietly. "No, that time was just panic, Stevie."

Steve frowned at Bucky; the words didn't make any sense. "I'm not."

Bucky tilted his head. "Not in your head, maybe. But your body just went through something really scary, and your body doesn't know it was a game. Your body still thinks there's some danger here somewhere. That's why you feel like you feel right now--you know it's over but your whole body's still on alert."

Steve shook his head slightly, but it felt true--the way he'd wanted to lock the bathroom door, the way he'd jumped at nothing. Wanting a weapon, even if it was just a glass of water. 

"Why isn't it stopping?" He heard his own voice and it sounded like it belonged to someone else.

"JARVIS says it happens like this sometimes," Bucky said quietly. "After a thing like we did, sometimes the person who got hurt, they need some help knowing that it's over, because what you know about it in your head and what just happened to your body is too different. And he says that's my responsibility, and I guess I'm falling down on the job here. He's pretty annoyed with me for fucking it up, actually."

"You didn't," Steve said. "You didn't--I told you to--I--"

Bucky nodded. "I know that, pal, and you know that, but JARVIS is still pissed with me. He says I should have helped you get cleaned up after, and then I should stay real close to you, as close as you'll let me, and help you remember how to feel safe."

"You can," Steve said, before sure if he meant it, but--of course he meant it, of course he wanted Bucky to be close to him. He always wanted that. And he didn't want JARVIS--who was suspiciously silent, as though holding a grudge--to be mad at Bucky. It wasn't Bucky's fault.

"You come as close as you want, then, okay?" Bucky said, moving the tablet to the coffee table and unfolding his legs. His feet were bare. 

Steve nodded, and then he scooted over on the couch--away from the glass of water--until he was right next to Bucky, only a little space between. They sat like this, carefully chaste, to watch movies together. 

"That's good," Bucky said. "I'm gonna put my arm around you, all right?"

Steve nodded stiffly, and Bucky slowly extended his right arm, curling it around Steve's shoulders. Steve closed his eyes. He had wanted this for weeks while Bucky enforced his careful rules--just to sit on the couch with Bucky's arm around him, or his arm around Bucky. He had wanted to be close, he had wanted to have _sex_ , and that had led them here, to this, to--

Bucky's arm tightened, and Steve realized he was shaking. Bucky was bracing him like he could hold Steve together if he just gripped him firmly enough.

"Come here," Bucky said softly, tugging a little, and Steve gave in all at once. He threw himself at Bucky, turning in to hide his face against the crook of Bucky's neck, grabbing hold of Bucky's soft shirt with both hands as he leaned half into Bucky's lap. 

He was shaking harder now--why was he shaking now? He was fine now, he was here and safe with Bucky, Bucky's arms were around him, holding him close. 

"Shivering," Steve said against Bucky's chest.

"Yeah," Bucky said, and for a half-second Steve was afraid--more than that, grief-stricken--at the thought that Bucky might have heard it only as an observation: he was shivering. 

But then Bucky said, "Just like that, probably. You get too cold, you stop shivering. You only shiver when you start to warm up. Like that, right? You're safe now, you go ahead and feel as scared as you want."

Steve exhaled, and felt all the tension leave his body at once. It was Bucky, his Bucky--they were in sync again. They were here together. He was safe. They'd come through it alive.

He was still shaking. Bucky held him tight, and he felt the occasional soft pressure of a kiss against his hair. 

"It's okay," Bucky was murmuring. "It's okay. You're fine now. You did great, you know that? When I said that before, about telling you it was gonna be scary--I just meant you didn't have to feel bad about being scared. I did that to you on purpose. I know you well enough to scare you bad and I did it. I did this to you, Stevie. You don't have to hide it from me. I'm old enough to clean up my own messes."

"Jerk," Steve said against his shoulder. The word came out wobbly, but Bucky just rubbed a firm hand up and down Steve's back.

"Yeah, I was. But you did just what I asked you to--you were so good for me. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm so goddamn lucky. I know it was awful, but you were so good."

Steve shook his head a little, still hiding his face against Bucky's shoulder. He hadn't been good. The thought came back to him again, _Why didn't I fight harder?_ and he remembered how helpless he'd felt, how small. He'd left his hands in the air when Bucky told him to. 

A shudder wracked him from the pit of his stomach outward, and his eyes were... No, his eyes weren't watering. He was crying into Bucky's shoulder.

"Yeah, there you go," Bucky murmured, his hand coming up to Steve's hair, petting gently over the damp strands before running all the way down his back. "Shivering pretty hard right now. Warming up hurts like a bitch, huh? Can't put your hands right by the fire when they're numb, you gotta warm up slow."

"What," Steve said into Bucky's shoulder, the word distorted by a sob. He didn't even know what Bucky was talking about anymore. 

"Shh," Bucky said, and he kept talking about being cold and warm. 

Steve didn't really need to listen to it; it didn't make any sense and it didn't matter. He couldn't stop crying into Bucky's shoulder, but he didn't have to. Bucky was holding him close. Bucky's hands and Bucky's voice meant safety, meant someone else was on watch. He could fall apart for a while.

He stopped crying like the end of a battle, not the end of a fight--there was no decisive moment when it was finished, just reports slowly arriving that added up to the conclusion that the action was over. He was aware of his hands aching where they still clenched around folds of Bucky's shirt, and relaxed them. He sniffed to clear his nose and actually got it clear. He pulled his wet face away from Bucky's wet shirt and noticed that his own breathing was steadying, though his eyes still leaked and his head ached a little. 

"Here," Bucky said quietly, offering him a soft clean handkerchief. 

Steve wiped his face and blew his nose without ever picking his head up enough that he had to look Bucky in the eye. When Bucky took the handkerchief back he nudged Steve down again, and Steve let himself be moved, settling his cheek against Bucky's arm--his left one, but the softness of his shirtsleeve was enough to make it comfortable to rest there. 

He was vaguely aware of Bucky twisting under and around him--rummaging behind the cushions, Steve thought. Bucky liked to stash things there. Steve opened his eyes at the sound of a paper wrapper being opened, and Bucky tapped something against his lips. 

The smell of it filled Steve's nose--caramel, one of the fancy soft ones from the boutique candy shop three blocks away. Steve opened his mouth for the candy and Bucky popped it gently into his mouth. The rich sweetness of it made Steve's mouth water so hard it hurt. 

Bucky's thumb brushed over his cheek as he chewed and swallowed, and when the caramel was gone Bucky said, "Pick your head up a little."

Steve obeyed, and his lips met the opening of a water bottle. Bucky held it for him, exactly angled, until he'd drunk his fill, and then he said, "You hungry, Stevie?"

Steve shook his head, although he wasn't exactly not hungry, either, just still too shaky, too close to the fight, to contemplate eating. 

"Here, try this, your blood sugar's gotta be shot," Bucky said, holding something else to his lips. It was a piece of the kind of energy bar Steve liked the best, pear-walnut, and after the caramel it tasted tart and almost savory. 

He let Bucky feed him the whole thing, piece by piece, with his eyes closed and his head resting heavily on Bucky's arm, just opening his mouth when Bucky told him to. By the last piece Bucky had to poke his cheek and say, "Come on, chew and swallow and then I'll let you sleep."

Steve chewed and swallowed, but there was something else he had to do before he could rest. "JARVIS."

Steve's voice came out rusty, half-voiced, but he turned his face just far enough out of Bucky's chest to be heard, and JARVIS, of course, heard him. "Yes, Captain?"

"Bucky's doing good. Don't be mad, okay?"

"Sergeant Barnes is indeed performing his duties adequately," JARVIS said. "I do not think I shall have to correct him further."

"Just don't be mad," Steve muttered, and he snuggled into the angle of Bucky's elbow and let himself sleep.

* * *

Waking up on the couch, still sprawled across Bucky, felt like waking up after some long fever, right down to feeling vaguely sweaty and starving. Steve picked his head up, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he tipped his head back. Bucky was looking down at him with a fond smile and caution in his eyes. 

"So that... all happened," Steve said. It came back to him in odd flashes: the scene in the kitchen, showering off his own blood, sobbing helplessly afterward in Bucky's arms. 

Bucky nodded. "It did. How are you feeling?"

Steve sat up further, peeling himself away from Bucky as he considered. "Day after the flu, I guess? I'm on the mend."

Bucky smiled at that, and Steve leaned in to kiss him, wanting to wipe away that lingering hesitation in his expression. 

"I'm fine," Steve said softly. "I'm still not mad at you."

Bucky squeezed his shoulder and kissed him back, and Steve finally thought to ask, "Was it--was it good for you?" 

He thought he remembered Bucky saying that, but Bucky had been trying to comfort him, so he might have said anything that sounded reassuring.

Bucky's cautious look dissolved into something confused, inward-turning, like he was also peering back into a fever dream. "I... I don't know if I'd call it good, but it worked. Thank you."

Steve kissed him again and said, "How about lunch, then."

Bucky laughed a little, so Steve figured they were going to be okay.


	3. Chapter 3

They stayed close the rest of the day--not always touching, but never far from each other, and exchanging little kisses again and again. The furthest apart they got was when they went down to the gym and trained in different areas, and even then they were always in sight of each other; it seemed like every time Steve looked over to confirm that Bucky was still nearby, he caught Bucky looking back. 

That night Steve said, "My bed or yours?"

He saw a flicker of hesitation on Bucky's face, but Bucky said, "Yours, if you want me in it."

Steve didn't bother telling Bucky that he did, just tugged him through the door. They kissed again, when they were in bed. Steve had a flicker of awareness that they could have sex now, this kind of sex, but something in him still shied away from it. He wasn't hard, and he didn't invite anything more, just kissed Bucky drowsily until it was easy to cuddle close and fall asleep again.

He woke up to Bucky's weight on him, Bucky's cock hard against his hip. His heart was racing and he could taste of fear at the back of his throat--but Bucky was whispering, "No, no, _stop_ ," in a despairing voice.

Steve gave him a firm shove, exactly enough force to roll Bucky onto his side. He put plenty of command behind it when he said, " _Bucky_."

Bucky jerked awake and scrambled out of the bed. Steve's night vision was good enough to catch his expression of wide-eyed horror before Bucky vanished into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Steve got up too, padding cautiously toward the door as he pieced it together. 

Bucky had been having a nightmare. He remembered that tense insistence the morning after Bucky had first come into his room-- _it was a nightmare_. 

And now Bucky's nightmares would have a whole new source to draw from, because Bucky had played today at doing exactly what he'd already been afraid of doing: scaring and hurting and raping Steve. 

Steve closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the bathroom door, listening. There was no sound of water running. No sound of Bucky being sick or making any other sound. 

Steve set his hand on the doorknob and thought that Bucky had almost certainly not stopped to lock it.

"Buck," he said softly. "Can I come in?"

No answer. Steve turned the doorknob slowly, soundlessly, and pushed the door open, listening for any sound of protest. None came. "JARVIS, lights low."

The bathroom was illuminated in a dim, indirect glow, and Steve discovered Bucky kneeling with his forehead against the lid of the toilet, both hands over his face.

"Hey," Steve said softly. "Bucky, it was just a bad dream."

"You dropped the bell," Bucky said, without lowering his hands. "You dropped the bell, you were screaming, and I didn't--I didn't stop. I wouldn't stop. You were bleeding and you were crying and I just kept going."

Steve winced. Half of that had really happened, but--"I didn't drop the bell in real life, Buck. I never told you to stop. That part was just the nightmare."

Bucky did lower his hands then, lifting his head to look up at Steve. 

Steve moved all the way inside, sitting down next to the door. There was still a body-length between them, in this ridiculously spacious bathroom, but at least Bucky wasn't looking up at him from his knees. 

"It felt so fucking good," Bucky whispered. "I liked it. Steve, you were crying and you wanted me to stop and I didn't stop because I _fucking liked it_."

That part... wasn't the nightmare. Probably.

"Well, I didn't do all of that so you could _not_ like it," Steve offered, smiling a little, but Bucky just looked sick and hunted.

"I never," Bucky said, and he folded his arms around himself defensively, tipping down to sit against the wall, as far from Steve as he could get. "When they made me. It was just something I had to do. I never... it felt good, physically, there was pleasure to it, but I never _liked it_. It was just--orders. A task."

Steve didn't let himself look away, though he was starting to feel sick himself.

"But that, with you today--I fucking liked it. And I--I don't know if I would have stopped, Stevie. It felt so fucking good, I don't know if I--and you--I can still hear you screaming," Bucky trailed off, raising his metal hand to rub the heel of it against his ear. "You were--you were screaming. I could hear the bell ringing and I didn't stop and then it was just screaming. I did that to you."

"You didn't," Steve said firmly, putting the same authority into it that he'd used to wake Bucky up. If he could somehow wake Bucky from this nightmare, it would be the best command he'd ever given.

"You didn't hear the bell ringing--that was only a dream. I didn't tell you to stop, and we agreed that if I didn't, you would keep going. We agreed that you were going to make me want you to, but if I could take it, you would finish. We had safeguards. JARVIS would have made you stop if you ignored me, but it didn't go that far. I didn't ask you to stop. If I did, you would have. The fact that you feel sick right now tells you you would have. That's what makes that dream a nightmare, it's exactly what you wouldn't have done in real life."

"You don't know that," Bucky insisted. "You don't know, you don't..."

Bucky hid his face in his hands again, and Steve glanced around the bathroom and remembered being here, wanting to hide, feeling sick. 

"Bucky," Steve said, moving up onto his knees. "Look, I think maybe the same thing is happening to you that happened to me. You feel like you just did something really bad." 

Steve kept talking steadily as he moved, walking on his knees over to Bucky, so that Bucky could pinpoint exactly where he was every second. "You feel like you raped someone today, but you didn't. You only did what I agreed to, and you liked it because it felt good, and because it was a game we were playing. You didn't break the rules. You're not going to hurt anybody. You didn't hurt me more than I agreed to. You didn't ignore what I was asking you for. You didn't break my trust."

By then Steve was close enough to put his hand on Bucky's right wrist, tugging gently. "Come on, it's my turn to stick close to you, right? Make sure you know you didn't do anything wrong. You didn't, Buck. You didn't do anything wrong. I didn't drop the bell. I didn't tell you to stop. You would never keep going after I told you to stop."

Bucky resisted Steve's pull, keeping his hands over his face long enough to say, "I don't want to do that again."

Steve smiled a little, despite everything. "I won't fight you on that, Buck. But I need you to know that this was okay, today. I mean, it knocked me for a loop, but that was the plan, right? I didn't drop the bell."

Bucky lowered his hands and looked Steve in the eye. "Say the other thing again."

Steve held his gaze. "You didn't break my trust. You didn't betray me. You would never keep going if I told you to stop. I still trust you. I still love you--" 

Bucky cut him off there, leaning in for a kiss, so careful and gentle that Steve's heart squeezed painfully in his chest. He followed Bucky's lead, though, cupping his hands around Bucky's face and kissing him back just as tenderly.

Bucky pulled away, leaning his forehead against Steve's. "Say it."

"I trust you," Steve whispered. "You didn't do anything wrong. I know you won't hurt me. I trust you. Now come back to bed."

Bucky nodded, but made no move to stand. He came along when Steve stood up, though, and let Steve bring him back to bed. When Steve lay down with his back turned, Bucky snuggled up to him, kissing the nape of his neck, wrapping his arms around Steve's cheest. 

Sleep was a long time coming, but Steve made himself relax, made his breathing even. He made a deliberate show of his trust until Bucky couldn't fail to see it, to feel it right down to his bones.

* * *

Bucky disappeared for a while the next day, but he came back before Steve could get truly worried, looking drained but calm. To Steve's questioning look he said, "Therapy. Doc wants to see me every day for a while."

"Oh," Steve said, because he didn't think he was supposed to apologize for driving Bucky to this. Before now, Bucky had gone maybe three times to see the therapist that the ad hoc Avengers administrative team had very firmly recommended to him. As far as Steve could tell, Bucky had thought of it the same way Steve did: as a hoop to be jumped through in exchange for being an Avenger. 

Bucky nodded as if Steve had asked any of the questions swirling inarticulately in his head. "When I first met him, Doc said he knew I was going to hide things and lie--said everyone does, because they hide things from themselves, lie to themselves. He said if I wasn't prepared to at least try to tell him the truth there wasn't a lot of point in meeting very often. But this morning I--I needed to confess to somebody, and..." 

Bucky waved a hand. "Anyway. Every day, for a while."

"Good," Steve said, because it seemed like the thing to say, although he was mostly thinking about the number of bald-faced lies he'd told the handful of therapists he'd been convinced to see at one time or another since he woke up in the 21st century.

Bucky shrugged and said lightly, "He says he doesn't think I'm a monster, anyway. Not exactly _absolvo te_ , but I'll take it."

* * *

Bucky didn't suggest sharing a bed that night. Their kiss goodnight lingered, but they didn't touch anywhere but their mouths. Steve undressed for bed and considered jerking off, but the thought was only slightly more appealing than going back and brushing his teeth again. He gave up without so much as touching himself. 

The next day after his therapy session, Bucky came home looking less exhausted than he had the day before, more focused. Steve had about an hour to wonder what exactly Bucky was focused on--he got all the way through filling Bucky in on his likely schedule for the next few days, and then Bucky informed him, "I want to make love to you."

For a second Steve's brain was still on training and appearances, timing and logistics. It seemed perfectly reasonable to say, "When?"

Bucky smile was very nearly a smirk. "Pencil me in whenever there's time, I can wait until you're ready."

Steve shook his head, even though his heartbeat was already kicking up with a mixture of interest--he was suddenly aware that he hadn't gotten off at all in days--and a lingering unnecessary frisson of fear. "I mean--why?"

Bucky raised his eyebrows. "You gotta ask me that?"

"Yes," Steve said firmly, sure of his ground. "I do. Because if you think you owe me--"

"I do owe you," Bucky said, and when Steve opened his mouth to protest Bucky made a sharp slashing gesture with one hand, cutting him off. 

"I _do_ , Steve. I want to make it up to you and this is one way I'd like to do it, because I love you and I want to have sex with you that gets you off. I want to get you off, okay? I want you to know that I can be good to you. _I_ want to know that I can be good to you."

Steve frowned, studying him. He was sure about this, Steve had to give him that.

"Is this what you spent your therapy session on today?"

"Doc is very supportive," Bucky said, flashing his teeth in something almost like a smile. "Which doesn't obligate you to do what I want, but I swear to God my shrink doesn't think it's excessively self-punishing to want to give you a nice blowjob, if you need an expert opinion."

Steve still felt himself wanting to argue, though he couldn't find the words to put up to slow Bucky down. Between one breath and the next he realized that that was the sum total of what he was trying to do: to hold off the inevitable. 

He hadn't figured out how to say it, or even if he wanted to tell, when he saw Bucky catch that realization on his face. Bucky shifted his weight away from Steve, nearly managing to blank out his own flinch as he raised his hands. "Steve, if it's too soon--if you don't want me touching you yet--I meant it about waiting until you're ready."

Steve shook his head. Now that he'd recognized the instinctive flinch for what it was, he wasn't going to let it win. "No. I want you to. I want to be on my back, I want you over me--"

Bucky opened his mouth to argue and Steve bulled right through. "No, because if you can do this to prove to yourself that you can, then I can do it for the same reason. Because I love you, and I refuse to be afraid to have sex with you."

Steve watched Bucky try to formulate an argument for a few seconds. He could feel his own heart racing faster still, and he couldn't say if it was fear or excitement, but it didn't matter. They were going to do this, and he knew it was all going to work out fine, because he trusted Bucky. 

Steve stood up, stripping off his shirt as he did. "Now's good, we shouldn't be interrupted. Your bed or mine?"

"Jesus tap-dancing--" Bucky muttered, and then he stood up too, giving Steve a little push in the center of his back. "Yours, let's go. I'm calling your bluff on calling my bluff. We can't _both_ be holding jokers, right?"

"Depends on who we've been letting shuffle the cards, I guess," Steve said, glancing over his shoulder at Bucky. 

Bucky just shook his head and pulled his own shirt up and off, putting his metal arm glaringly on display for the first time since Steve saw it in the kitchen.

Steve made himself face front, leaving Bucky unseen at his back, for the short walk into his bedroom. He threw himself directly onto the bed, kicking off his shoes and toeing out of his socks while he yanked his jeans open and pushed them down. No hesitation, no elaborate negotiations.

Bucky stood one step in from the doorway, watching with his hands at his sides as Steve stripped himself naked and sprawled out on the bed. Steve could feel sweat dewing his skin, and his dick felt full and sensitive against his thigh but wasn't hard yet. He wanted this, and more than that he wanted to get on with it.

"You gonna join me?"

"Oh, do I get a say after all?" Bucky asked, but he was walking toward the bed as he spoke, and his tone was full of familiar warm exasperation. "You want me more undressed than this?"

Steve looked Bucky up and down, making himself think about it. Bucky's bare chest and loose hair--and the guiltily reassuring certainty that Bucky wouldn't get off on this--were enough. Should be enough. 

"Take your shoes off," Steve said, pushing up on one elbow. "The rest is up to you."

Bucky nodded and perched on the corner of the bed, facing Steve as he took off his shoes and socks. He left his jeans on when he came closer, stretching out on the bed beside Steve. Steve opened his mouth to protest--Bucky lying next to him like this wasn't what he'd asked for--but Bucky leaned in immediately for a kiss, cutting him off before he could speak. 

His knee slid over Steve's right thigh and his hand settled on Steve's hip. He lifted his head enough to say, "Let me ease into it, all right?"

"Sure," Steve said, shivering a little at the drag of denim against his bare thigh, the exposed feeling of being naked while Bucky was still half-dressed, in broad daylight. 

He pushed into the next kiss and Bucky pushed back, kissing him deeper and hotter and wetter until Steve forgot to feel anything but how much he wanted this, wanted Bucky. He tugged Bucky closer, wanting to feel his weight, and Bucky shifted on top of him. Steve pushed up against him, rubbing his dick awkwardly against Bucky's thigh, making a little breathless sound into Bucky's mouth at the rough friction. 

"All right, all right," Bucky murmured, and he kept kissing Steve as he moved, taking his weight away. 

Steve tilted his head back and opened his eyes, and his breath stopped at the sight of Bucky kneeling over him, straddling his waist--but not holding him down, not grinding against him. He wouldn't. That wasn't what Bucky was doing here.

Bucky's hands slid down Steve's shoulders to his chest, and Steve shuddered at the memory of his rough, cruel touch after he'd torn Steve's shirt open. Now Bucky's hands were gentle, the warm and the cold one alike both moving smoothly over his body. 

Bucky leaned down for another kiss and Steve squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth, trying to feel how this was different without thinking too much about how it looked. Bucky's thumbs teased his nipples, light touches that felt so different from Bucky's two hands. Steve couldn't help pushing up into both. 

"Sensitive, doll?" Bucky murmured against his mouth. "You like that?"

"I--yeah, please," Steve replied, feeling himself blush at the pet name. 

Bucky kissed his red cheek and shifted away from him, bending his head over Steve's chest. He licked across his still-petting thumb, first one and then the other. He tested his teeth lightly, so lightly, against Steve's nipple, making the flesh tighten and stand up hard under the sweet teasing touch. If there was a threat of pain there it was only giving a highlight to the pleasure of Bucky's touch. Steve reached for him, lacing his fingers into Bucky's hair, but Bucky shook his head sharply, pushing off Steve's grip.

"Be still," Bucky said firmly. "Let me be nice to you."

"How's it nice not to let me touch you?" Steve demanded. He couldn't just--just lie there and take it, even if what he was taking was pleasure and not pain. 

"You won't find out if you don't behave yourself," Bucky replied, smirking again.

He rubbed his cheek and chin against the curve of Steve's pec as he spoke, the scratch of stubble heightening the sensation when Bucky closed his mouth on Steve's nipple. He sucked softly at one while he pinched the other, not a brutal squeeze but a tantalizing pressure, there and gone and back again. Every little pinch was a throb in Steve's blood, a heavy pulse of pleasure that connected straight to his dick. Steve's hands closed tight on the covers, and Bucky didn't object to Steve arching up against him, pressing his chest to Bucky's mouth. 

Bucky's hands shifted from Steve's nipples to the outside of his chest, pressing his pecs together to make the double curve of them look bigger, making cleavage of them. Steve squirmed under the touch, but Bucky just ducked his head again, licking and sucking and kissing, scratching everywhere with stubble. It could have been that or the flush on Steve's skin but he could see himself turning pink under Bucky's attention. 

Steve writhed, begging with little cut-off sounds that he couldn't bear to make into words. Bucky rewarded him with a long sucking kiss on one nipple, going on and on, dragging more pleasure from that one spot than Steve could bear. He twisted his hips without thinking, looking for Bucky's thigh again, anything to rub his hardening dick against while Bucky went on teasing him.

"Uh-uh," Bucky said, taking his mouth away, leaving Steve's nipples shiny-wet and reddened--Bucky's lips looked the same. Bucky scooted backward, and his hands came down on Steve's hips, pinning them to the bed. Steve surged automatically against that grip, but Bucky didn't give way; Steve succeeded only in making his dick bounce. Bucky was already lowering himself to it, catching the head of Steve's cock on his tongue. 

Steve jerked again, trying to push up against that yielding wet touch. "Bucky, please, would you just--" 

Bucky made a thoughtful noise, just the head of Steve's cock still resting on his tongue, his lips parted around it without touching. Then Bucky tightened his grip harder on Steve's hips and said, "I need more hands. Help me out, Stevie, get your hands on yourself--"

Steve obeyed with alacrity, curling his right hand around the base of his cock and angling it helpfully toward Bucky's mouth. Bucky licked once, just enough to make Steve burn for more, and then said, "You've got two hands, doll. Use 'em."

Steve knew what Bucky meant. He brought his left hand up to his chest, cupping it like Bucky had, and Bucky worked his tongue encouragingly against the head of Steve's cock. Steve moaned at the stimulation, still mostly a tease, and he rubbed his thumb roughly over his reddened nipple. It was damp and sensitive from Bucky's attentions, and he couldn't help giving his cock a quick stroke with his other hand. His knuckles bumped against Bucky's chin. 

"All right, doll," Bucky said. "You keep it up and so will I."

"Dammit, Bucky," Steve managed, but Bucky just winked and closed his mouth on Steve's cock.

Steve let his head fall back, watching Bucky through his eyelashes. He kept both of his own hands in motion, pinching his nipples, rubbing at the sensitive skin. His fingers worked the base of his cock while Bucky went further down, sucking him slowly, gently, until Steve was struggling constantly to thrust up. Bucky's hands held him down, and Steve let out a frustrated noise and hooked one leg around Bucky, trying to urge him on. 

Bucky pulled off all the way, "Giddyup, huh?"

"Nah, take your time," Steve managed, speaking through gritted teeth.

Bucky grinned. "All right. Both hands on your tits, I've got this."

Steve made an outraged noise at _tits_ , but it melted into a groan as Bucky took his cock all the way down to the top of Steve's hand. Steve took his hand off his cock and brought it up to his chest, and when Bucky looked up Steve managed to press his pecs together while flipping Bucky off. Bucky's eyes crinkled up in a smile that his stretched-open mouth couldn't show. 

He went down further, sucking hard and fast now and still not letting Steve thrust up into his mouth. Steve kept touching himself until he was half sobbing with it, feeling dizzy and out of control and suddenly desperate to touch Bucky. He reached down with his right hand, grabbing for Bucky's, and only realized as his fingers curled around Bucky's that it was his left hand, the metal one. 

Bucky hooked his fingers around Steve's and sucked harder, and Steve managed to gasp out Bucky's name a couple of times before he came. Bucky sucked him through it instead of pulling off, and when Steve was limp and panting on the mattress he took his mouth off Steve's cock and kissed his fingers where they were now only loosely curled around Bucky's. Steve tugged a little with that hand and made a noise that was too lazy to be a word.

Bucky understood anyway, crawling up Steve's body. He pressed a light kiss to each nipple, and to the back of Steve's left hand, still resting on his chest. Bucky stretched out beside him, right where he'd started.

"See?" he murmured, kissing Steve's mouth lightly. "That was good, right?"

"Yeah," Steve murmured, raising his other hand to curl around the back of Bucky's neck, pulling him into a proper kiss. "Yeah, no complaints from me."

* * *

Steve bit his tongue on the words for as long as he could bear to, so it was about five hours later, over dinner, that he finally said something.

"You know I..."

Bucky looked at him steadily, slightly wary, and Steve looked down before he spoke. "The offer still stands."

Bucky sighed, which brought Steve's gaze right back to him. Bucky was frowning down at his plate, pushing potatoes around with his fork. 

"I know it does, Steve. I just--you said you still trust me, but the thing is..."

Steve braced himself to argue Bucky into trusting himself, but Bucky took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and met Steve's eyes almost defiantly.

"The thing is, I don't know if I trust you."

Steve's mouth fell open and he struggled to think around the overwhelming sensation of having been sucker punched. 

Bucky's lips went tight and he shook his head a little. "No. Doc says I have to be precise, honest. _I don't trust you_. With me, yeah, I trust you to the end of the earth when it comes to keeping _me_ safe, but I'm not worried that I'll get hurt, Steve. I'm scared to death of hurting you. And I don't trust you to have my back when it comes to keeping _you_ safe--if you wanna tell me I'm wrong about that, pal, I've got about a thousand reasons why I'm not. What happened in the kitchen the other day isn't even the top of the list."

There was no arguing with that. There was no _fighting_ that, except...

"You said, if you punched me," Steve said. "If you punched me then that was too far and I had to stop you."

Bucky's mouth was a bloodless line.

"You weren't hurting me that badly, and you didn't punch me, so--"

"You were scared," Bucky snapped. "You were so scared you stayed scared, you were scared of _me_ \--"

" _You told me to be scared of you_ ," Steve snapped back, and he was dimly aware that he was yelling now. "You didn't say to stop if I got too scared! You said I was supposed to be fucking scared, so I was scared! That was the deal, Buck!"

"I told you--"

"You told me it was good," Steve insisted. "You told me I didn't do anything wrong, don't you dare say you don't trust me now because I did what you wanted me to--"

"I didn't fucking want that!" 

Steve wanted to storm away and he wanted to throw a punch and he wanted to shrink down small enough to disappear between the floorboards. There was a little silence while they stared at each other, and then Bucky slumped forward, burying his face in his hands. Steve's hurt and anger on his own behalf all squeezed down into hurt for Bucky.

"Someone has to be in control," Bucky said quietly. "To do a thing like that--somebody has to be in control, and I can't be. I have to be off the leash for it to work, Steve, so I have to know you'll stop me. I have to know you won't let me hurt you more than you can bear. If I--if I punch you in the fucking _feelings_ , you have to make me stop then, too."

"Okay," Steve said, which made Bucky's shoulders jerk but didn't convince him to look up. 

"Look, Buck, you were right when you said I didn't know what I was asking for. I didn't know what it would be like. I didn't know. Maybe I let myself get hurt more than you wanted to hurt me--but now I know. If you... How can I convince you? I'll do anything for you. If you need me to be the one who calls a halt, I'll do that. We'll make more rules. Just tell me how I can make it okay for you."

Bucky's shoulders twitched again. He shook his head, still buried in his hands, and after another moment he stood up, coming around the table fast enough to let Steve know he had to stay where he was. Bucky leaned down into him from behind, pressing his metal hand gently over Steve's mouth. 

He kissed Steve behind his ear and then whispered, "You fucking wreck me, you know that?"

Steve was still trying to think of an answer to that when Bucky dropped his hand from Steve's mouth and walked out. He stayed in his room with the door closed the rest of the night.

* * *

At three in the morning, Steve's phone vibrated, and Steve reached for it without even debating. Only Bucky's texts came through at night; if it were any other kind of emergency it would be JARVIS relaying the message. 

_Swear to me_

Steve's thumb hovered over the little glowing keyboard for a second and then he shook his head and got up. He didn't knock at Bucky's door, just leaned against it. 

"I swear to you, Bucky. I won't let you hurt me that much again."

In his hand his phone buzzed again.

_Swear you'll pretend it's worse than it is. SWEAR._

That... was going to require some preparation, but then again it wasn't like they'd be doing this tomorrow morning.

"I'll pretend it's worse than it is," Steve said out loud. "I promise, when I seem really scared, it won't be real. Just a game. I'll make you stop if I really get that scared, or if you hurt me too much any other way."

The phone in his hand stayed dark and still. 

"Dammit, Buck," Steve said, leaning his weight against the door but still making no move to open it. "I've never lied to you. I might be a stubborn damn idiot, but I--"

He nearly fell when the door opened, but Bucky caught him, and Steve knew enough to hold on tight. They stayed right there for a long time, clinging to each other in the doorway, but that was all right. Steve didn't care where they were going as long as they were together.

* * *

They agreed to wait another three days before they actually tried it. There was a pad of paper and a pen on the coffee table for writing down new rules, or safety guidelines, whenever they thought of them. But Steve knew that rules could only help so much.

He needed to know what he was doing in the moment. He needed muscle memory, trained reactions. He needed to practice.

Given what he was practicing, he didn't want to be anywhere near Bucky while he was doing it. He needed somewhere absolutely private and contained. And he needed mirrors, because no one was going to critique his form but him.

Steve headed down to the eighty-fourth floor after lunch. In the elevator, he texted Natasha. _Could I borrow your studio for an hour?_

As he'd half-expected her to be, Natasha was waiting outside the doors when the elevator opened. She raised her eyebrows. "Taking up ballet, Rogers?"

"I'm told I have completely the wrong build for it," Steve said blandly. "I just need somewhere private to practice some things."

Natasha tilted her head and looked him over. "Some things that you can't practice on your own floor."

"Yeah," Steve said. It was awfully handy to be well-known as a terrible liar when you really needed to sell a lie. Especially when the lie was going to happen entirely in the other person's head, filling in the blanks with things he didn't say. "I, uh--there are things I want to be able to do--say. With Bucky. A surprise."

He could feel himself blushing, but that just sold the story: he was every bit as staid as Natasha liked to believe he was, and he needed to practice to say either something emotional or something filthy to Bucky. Maybe both.

Natasha was smiling almost gleefully now; he could see her constructing exactly the story he wanted her to. All the Avengers knew he and Bucky were together, but only because he and Bucky had told them. They didn't make any displays where anyone could see, didn't say anything sentimental that wasn't cloaked in familiar insults and deadpan jokes. Natasha would think he was shy, and that whatever he was practicing was something sweet. All of Bucky's secrets would stay safe this way.

Natasha stepped up and stood on tiptoe to kiss his red cheek, and Steve felt a little twinge of regret for deceiving her. But there really was no limit to what he would do for Bucky, and Bucky needed him to get it right next time.

"Studio's all yours, Casanova." Her voice was low, teasingly sultry. "Text me if you need help coming up with your lines."

"I think I've got it," Steve assured her, and turned on his heel to watch her into the elevator.

That was the point, after all. The words he needed to be able to say were ones he shouldn't be able to forget.

He dug the bell out of his pocket and closed it in his left fist as he walked down to Natasha's studios. He stopped on the strip of carpeting just inside the door and took off his shoes and socks. He walked barefoot onto the gleaming hardwood, smooth enough to let silk slippers move easily over it, and faced the wall of mirrors. With the door sealed behind him and Bucky six floors away, with the reflection of his naked toes before him, Steve said firmly, "Red."

Then he shook his head. This didn't call for any kind of voice that sounded like Captain America--not a command voice, not a stage voice. He wasn't supposed to be Steve Rogers for this; he sure as hell wasn't supposed to be Cap.

"Red," he tried again, making it small and wavering. "Red," like his throat was closing up and he had to struggle for air. 

" _Red_ ," frantic, rising to a scream, and this time he dropped the bell, heard it jangle brightly as it bounced across the hardwood floor.

He picked it up, and this time he got down on his knees as he faced the mirror. "Please," he whispered. "Please don't, please, it hurts, _please, no_ \--"

* * *

When Steve took up the bell this time it felt familiar in his hand. He'd practiced; his body knew this. He'd already taken his shoes off and tucked them away under the coffee table before he picked it up. Bucky had disappeared back into his bedroom. Steve reflexively calculated how long it would be before he came back out. 

Bucky would have to change into the outfit, and more importantly get into the mindset. He'd have to get off the leash. Maybe work on getting aroused, knowing what was coming next--or maybe that part was easy.

Steve stood up and walked toward the windows, away from the kitchen. He had to get into his own mindset. He bounced on his heels, shaking his body loose like he'd just done a long workout. He couldn't tense up. His whole body had to be relaxed: slow to react, absorbing blows. 

He watched himself in the mirror, practicing a couple of facial expressions, doing the little vocal warmups that he'd learned on his USO tour under his breath. He was ready for this. He'd practiced. He had a plan. He knew what he was doing this time; he was going to show Bucky he could be trusted. 

He caught a flash of reflected movement in the glass, and he dropped his shoulders and relaxed his arms, making himself stay still for a beat before he turned. The Soldier's body hit his with a shocking force. He was slammed hard against the glass, his head snapping sideways, but his shoulder took most of the impact. 

"What," he said, like he didn't understand. He wouldn't understand; he was just an innocent civilian looking out the window. He made his arms limp, swinging like a doll's, as he struggled against the crushing force of the Soldier's weight pinning him in place. He pushed, shifting his feet at the same time so he had no leverage. 

"What are you doing?" he demanded, pitching his voice toward fear. A normal person would be frightened by a sudden unstoppable attack. The little knock on the head throbbed, but it hadn't so much as made his ears ring; not a problem. 

"Anything I want," the Soldier growled. He grabbed Steve by the arms as he took a sudden step back, hauling Steve away from the glass and shoving him into the middle of the room. 

Steve had to make a deliberate effort to stumble--he should practice that next--but he hit the ground hard, with almost stunning force. The bell in his fist gave a sharp rattle on the way down. The Soldier pounced on him before he managed to get up and try to run away, but that was all right, he'd only have had to stumble again. He put his hands on the floor--left closed, right open--and tried to push himself backward, like he still thought he could get away.

The Soldier shoved him down with a hand at the center of his chest and said, "Don't fight, kid. You're not getting away from this."

Translation: fight a little.

Steve gave an uncalculated swing of his fists, something he'd practiced carefully, something even his own backalley-fighting self would have scorned as lousy technique. The blows bounced off the Soldier's arms and chest, accompanied by the _tock tock tock_ of the bell. 

The Soldier slapped his arms away--red marks bloomed briefly on his stinging wrists--and shoved his wrists down to the carpet. "Now you're going to get punished, kid."

"Like I wasn't before?" Steve snapped. Too defiant? Well, he'd make the turn to scared when Bucky gave him his cue. "Don't tell me you weren't going to hurt me."

The Soldier let go of his wrist and punched him, hard, in the pit of the stomach. Steve lost his breath and for a second he thought he was going to vomit, too. 

"You can always make it worse," he heard over the pain and nausea; he was aware of curling on his side. Not a move he'd practiced. He hauled in a breath. They were okay. This was the plan--

His next yell was completely unrehearsed and unfeigned. The Soldier's metal hand had hit him in the small of the back, squarely over a kidney, and Steve writhed away from it, lashing out with an instinctive hard kick. His heel connected squarely with the inside of Bucky's thigh, knocking him off balance. Steve rolled onto his belly and started crawling away, bell gripped tight in his fist. 

The worst of the pain receded quickly; no severe damage. No need to call it. 

The Soldier's hands grabbed the backs of his thighs, and Steve remembered to go limp instead of tensing for another blow. Bucky hauled him away from the couch and flipped him over, and Steve yanked his hands up. It looked like cowering, hiding his face, but it also gave Bucky a good look at his fingers still gripping tight around the bell. He hadn't been able to counterfeit shaky hands when he practiced, but a tight grip and the actual adrenaline of pain and an uneven fight were getting him pretty close. The bell gave a few little tocks before the Soldier shoved Steve's hands to the ground again.

"You can make it worse, but you can't make it better," the Soldier said, settling his weight on Steve's midsection, and Steve could feel the hardness of his cock. He pulled up the expression of disgusted horror that he'd practiced. He struggled like he'd just figured out where this was going, pushing against the grip on his wrists, bucking and trying to kick. 

"Well," the Soldier said, sounding darkly, nastily amused. "If you're going to be a whore for it--"

Steve didn't think--hadn't practiced this--but he picked up his head and spat in the Soldier's face. He barely had time to see that he'd hit him squarely in one goggle-covered eye before he got the back of the Soldier's right hand across his face, and that was the cue. 

Steve latched on to the squirmy, humiliated feeling from the Soldier's last remark--he wasn't supposed to like it, he _didn't_ like it, and Bucky wasn't supposed to pretend he did--and turned it into hurt and fear. He tried to twist away and hide his face as he made his breathing quick. 

"I'm not," he said, and it came out almost petulant, but that was a start. He pushed weakly against the Soldier's grip, which earned him a crushing hold on his wrist from the Soldier's metal hand. "Please, I'm not--don't--"

"You're whatever I say you are, little whore," the Soldier snarled, and Steve felt his face going hot. It was stupid, but it was useful--Bucky could be mean and not really hurt him. He could work with this. 

"Just don't, please, don't hurt me," Steve managed, shaking his head and cringing, blinking hard to try to get tears going. He could feel them close, and if the Soldier kept talking like that they'd probably spill. "I won't, please, I won't fight if you just--"

"If I just what," the Soldier mocked, shoving Steve's shirt up. He didn't tear it this time, but he did push it all the way up to his throat and then pin it to the floor with one hand, putting pressure on Steve's airway. 

Steve tilted his chin up to make sure it was his trachea taking most of the pressure instead of his blood vessels--he could work a lot longer with constricted breathing than constricted circulation to his brain. He remembered to squirm at the same time, shaking his head a little while the Soldier pressed down tighter on the makeshift garrote. His face reddened naturally now as he struggled to breathe.

He let himself remember a little how it had felt last time--not hard, with the Soldier's weight pressing down on him, and his gasping voice was definitely shaking now. "Please, just--please, I won't--"

"Oh yes you will," the Soldier insisted, grinding against Steve's belly and grabbing roughly at his chest, yanking hard at a nipple. Steve made a strangled keening sound around the pressure on his throat, trying to squirm away and only making the Soldier's implacable grip hurt more.

"No, no," Steve moaned, "not that, please--"

"Oh yeah, that," the Soldier insisted immediately, squeezing cruelly at Steve's chest. "Don't want me to play with your pretty little tits, huh?"

A warning chill went down Steve's spine, but he just made a wordless protesting noise and tried to pull away.

"I'll play with whatever I want to. You're mine now," the Soldier growled. "I'll fuck you any way I want to. If I want to fuck your tits, I will, and you'll fucking thank me for not fucking you anywhere else."

"No, I, no," Steve managed, but he was starting to see where this was going and the words shook with more sincerity than he wanted to be using right now. _Dammit, Bucky--_

"Put your hands on 'em and maybe I won't fuck you dry," the Soldier demanded. "Push 'em together, make a nice tight spot for me to fuck," and Steve heard Bucky saying _Help me out, Stevie, get your hands on yourelf_.

"No," Steve said, sharp but wavering, because he wasn't supposed to be remembering that now. Bucky wasn't supposed to drag something good into this and make it something cruel. He still thought he could maybe fight through it, but--

"Be nice, doll, or I'll really hurt you." Bucky grabbed his wrists, forcing his hands down to his chest. 

The word caught in Steve's throat, but he knew that was it. He wasn't going to let Bucky do this. He was going to draw the line here, now, where he only felt a little sick and furious and not like Bucky had already ruined something sweet and good. 

It still took him a second, despite the practice, and Bucky was already mashing his hands--one open, one closed--against the sides of his chest, forcing him to push in. He was still talking, still grinding his cock against Steve's chest. He thought he was going to get what he wanted. He was enjoying this, and for a half second Steve remembered him saying _It felt so good, I don't know if I would have stopped_.

Steve couldn't speak for a second, but other muscles remembered their lessons better: his left hand opened, fingers splaying wide. He managed to throw the bell so it bounced off Bucky's chest, jingling merrily as Steve finally gasped out, "Red, red, _Bucky, stop_."

Bucky jerked like the bell hitting his chest was a bullet. He scrambled away from Steve, tearing off his mask and goggles, opening both hands wide. 

"Sorry," he said, wide-eyed. 

It was thoroughly Bucky's voice, Bucky's wide eyes, nothing of the Soldier left on his face despite the uniform. He reached toward Steve without touching, looking him up and down like he expected to see blood somewhere. "Shit, sorry, Steve, are you okay?"

"M'fine," Steve said, sitting up and yanking his shirt down, rubbing at his face. He couldn't meet Bucky's eyes--he looked actually worried that he'd hurt Steve, and for the first time Steve wondered if his plan could do more harm than good. 

Still he said, "See? You stopped."

His voice came out shakier than he meant it to. He'd maybe practiced that a little too much. He swallowed against the lingering ache in his throat, and made himself look up and meet Bucky's gaze.

Bucky was starting to frown. "Did you--you did that on purpose."

"Well, it wasn't an accident," Steve said, and his voice was steadier now but his stomach twisted with guilt. He should have waited until Bucky did something worse--maybe Bucky wouldn't have, maybe it would have been fine. "You needed to know I would, and that you would stop if I did."

Bucky's eyes narrowed, and then he looked away. Steve could see him replaying it in his head before his eyes darted back to Steve, his expression of concentration turning back to horrified apology. "I called you doll."

Steve jerked his shoulders, his shrug coming out too tense. It was stupid. He shouldn't have--he should have saved it, or else used the safeword for that blow to the kidney, that had been actually dangerous. "It was--a little too much like the other day?"

"Shit," Bucky said. He came over to Steve's side and curled his arms around Steve's waist, pressing an apologetic kiss to the spot at his throat where his t-shirt had pressed, though it didn't even feel like he'd left a mark. 

"Shit, sorry, I wasn't thinking, I was just running my mouth. I shouldn't've--"

"You can, though," Steve said. "I can--we can keep going, just--just don't call me that if I'm not supposed to be me and you're not supposed to be you."

"God, I was making you do the same thing," Bucky muttered, totally ignoring what Steve had said as he gathered Steve into a hug like he actually needed it. "Sorry, that can be off-limits. New rule."

Steve shook his head but didn't push away from Bucky's arms. "You can, it just--surprised me, I--we can start over, I shouldn't--"

"Hey," Bucky pulled back, touching Steve's cheek to make Steve meet his eyes. "You wanted me to stop, you told me to stop, I stopped. You did exactly what you were supposed to do, and we're done now. We can try again some other time, but for now, we're finished. You did it right and we're done."

"I didn't," Steve said. God, he didn't have to practice stumbling over his _words_ , he did that just fine. "You didn't--you don't have to--"

"Shut up until you can say something that makes sense," Bucky said sternly.

He jerked Steve into another hug, and Steve told himself it was because Bucky wanted him to that he relaxed into it, resting his cheek against Bucky's leather-covered shoulder. He willingly ignored the way the straps and buckles on Bucky's chest dug into his bare arm and shoulder. 

"You did your part," Bucky repeated. "You did it right, and now it's the part where I'm nice to you and take care of you."

"I don't need anything," Steve muttered, except he was still leaning into Bucky's chest, and it'd probably be outright cuddling if Bucky weren't wearing what amounted to armor. 

"Well, I do," Bucky said. "You scared the hell out of me, I thought I'd have to rupture your goddamn spine before you'd tap out. I thought you must be half dead. I'm so fuckin' glad you told me to stop, Stevie, but you gotta let me be sweet to you for a while, okay? For me."

"Well, for you," Steve muttered. "You should change clothes."

"Yeah, come on, come with me," Bucky said, pulling Steve up as he stood. "You want a shower? Wanna wash up?"

Steve shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are," Bucky agreed. "Come on, I'll change as long as you come with me, huh?"

Steve huffed but didn't argue. He hadn't really earned Bucky treating him like this, and he didn't really need it, but if Bucky was going to insist he could go along with it. It was the way this was supposed to work, and it would be good to practice the whole routine. If they could get some more practice out of it then the whole effort wouldn't be wasted by him using the safeword.

Bucky sat him down at the foot of the bed and stepped away to strip out of his heavy tactical gear. It occurred to Steve that the mask and goggles would still be on the floor somewhere in the living room, along with the thrown bell, but that was all right. Seeing them lying there later wouldn't bother him--it wasn't something Bucky had to clean up in secret. Last time he'd made the broken glass and blood disappear before Steve could see them, but last time Steve had actually been upset. 

There was something fascinating in watching Bucky strip out of the Soldier's armor. Seeing his bare skin revealed beneath, scars and all, woke some hunger for touch and closeness that was as urgent as sex without being sex at all. Steve just wanted to touch him, wanted to feel him exposed this way, with his transition back from Soldier to Bucky complete. Steve didn't want anything to come between them, and without really thinking about it he stripped his own shirt off, which got Bucky's attention. 

"Okay there, pal?" Bucky said, standing on one foot, the combat boot he'd just pulled off still cradled in his hands. 

"I told you, I'm fine," Steve repeated. "I just--can you not put any clothes on? I just... I wanna touch you. Can we do that? Just... just touching?"

Bucky studied him for a few seconds, then shrugged and dropped his boot, raising his other foot to undo the laces. "Sure, if that's what you want. You're okay having your clothes off too?"

Steve nodded and unfastened his pants, shoving them down while Bucky did the same with his. The sight of Bucky's limp dick made Steve remember the feel of it straining hard against him, and he winced. "I'm sorry--"

"Don't apologize," Bucky said sharply, coming over to sit beside him. "You did the right thing."

"No, I--I know," Steve said, and he set his hand on Bucky's thigh, his fingertips close to Bucky's dick without quite touching it uninvited. "I meant the other kind of sorry. I'm sorry you didn't get to finish."

"Oh," Bucky said, and his face tensed in an odd expression, like he'd bitten into a lemon but he was savoring the sourness. "I... I would've liked to, but it was kind of good not to. Kind of... human."

Steve tightened his hand on Bucky's thigh and carefully didn't point out that Bucky was entirely human. 

"I mean, before," Bucky said, raising his two hands, one flesh and blood and one shining metal. "There were only two options--either I didn't, couldn't, at all," he gestured with his left hand, "or I had to," his right hand closed into a fist. "And if I had to--then I had to finish, too, because it was on orders. It was for a purpose. So getting all worked up and then stopping, it's..."

"Human," Steve agreed, because that really was the right word for it. "Just something that happens sometimes."

"Yeah," Bucky said, looking at him with a sad little smile. "Kind of a dumb thing to like, but--thanks for giving that back to me."

Steve kissed him, and Bucky sighed softly into it and kissed him back. It was slow and soft, their tongues touching only glancingly. Bucky pulled away first, and he immediately gathered Steve into a hug too close for kissing. Steve cuddled into it without reservation this time. This was human too, this need for touch, closeness, that wasn't just sex or the satisfaction of some other urge. This was good. 

"Come on," Bucky said finally. "We got a bed here, let's lie down, huh?"

Steve nodded into his shoulder and didn't move until Bucky made a familiar exasperated noise and moved him, dragging them both up the bed. Steve only moved then to resettle himself against and on top of Bucky, pressing skin to skin all the way down to their feet. 

"It's real nice of you to humor me like this," Bucky murmured, and Steve squirmed a little at the teasing but held on. Bucky brushed the knuckles of his metal hand softly against Steve's cheek, a steady, repetitive caress. Steve didn't fall asleep, exactly, but he let himself be lulled by it, by the warmth of Bucky's body and the regularity of his breathing. For a little while they could just be quiet together and need nothing more.


	4. Chapter 4

When he drifted to the surface, it was because he had a question to ask. 

"Bucky?"

Bucky stopped the motion of his left hand, resting it on Steve's shoulder instead. "Yeah? Need something, doll?"

A little thrill raced through him on that single word, danger and affection and hunger all at once. He knew Bucky had used it on purpose, to make sure it belonged to moments like this and not the other. 

Steve pulled away enough to actually meet his eyes. Bucky let him go but kept his hand steady on Steve's arm, looking back fearlessly. 

"You said..." Steve watched Bucky's eyes, searching for the reaction that might give away the truth if Bucky hedged. "Before I made you stop. You said you might fuck me."

Bucky didn't look away, or even seem surprised by the question. "Like I said, pal, I was running my mouth. I wouldn't have. Not like that, not without planning it out with you first."

"So you do want to, then," Steve said, and it was less a question than he'd thought it would have to be. 

It wasn't a surprise, exactly. It was what he'd anticipated right from the start--the worst hurt, the most intimate violation. It still shook him a little to know it was coming.

Bucky's gaze did dart away then, but came back quickly. "Yeah, of course I fucking want to, but not unless it's all right with you, and we figure out a way to keep me from hurting you too much. If I did try to fuck you dry, I don't care that you would heal, you'd better fucking stop me. That's way over the line."

Steve shook his head. "I know. I would've. So we just have to figure out--I could get myself ready before, if that's what you wanted."

"Stevie," Bucky sighed, and kissed him slowly and thoroughly enough to melt that icy anticipation in his stomach. "How about we save figuring out the next way I'm going to hurt you until after I'm done making up for this time?"

"You don't need to," Steve said, because Bucky hadn't really hurt him. But Bucky pressed his next kiss to Steve's throat, and then another just below his collarbone, and Bucky's metal hand was cupping one side of his chest. Bucky's metal thumb rubbed gently at Steve's nipple while Bucky pressed a kiss to his breastbone. 

Steve's breathing stuttered, and he fell onto his back. He sounded unconvincing even to his own ears when he said, "Bucky, you don't have to..."

Bucky rubbed his stubbled chin against the exaggerated curve he'd made of Steve's pec, and the scrape made Steve's skin tingle and draw tight. "I know, doll. But I want to. Do _you_ want to fuck _me_?"

Steve made a strangled hungry noise. Bucky was already laughing under his breath when Steve said as evenly as he could, "Of course I fucking want to."

"Think I can get you up for it?" Bucky asked, his right hand already skimming down Steve's body toward his stirring cock. "Or did you want to just cuddle naked some more? Whatever you want, Stevie. I'm here for you, doll."

"Well," Steve said, shifting under Bucky. "Now that you mention it, I could--if you really want to?"

"I really want to," Bucky promised, his hand working in little twisting strokes on Steve's cock. "You let me do all the work, okay? Gotta give you a nice memorable reward for being so good for me today."

Steve wanted to argue, but there was nothing he could say about Bucky choosing to fuck him like this that didn't apply equally to Steve letting Bucky hurt him in order to get off. He didn't really want to start an argument, anyway. He wanted to go on being close to Bucky, wanted Bucky to keep kissing him, keep touching him--and, as Bucky's hand brought his cock to full hardness with a few quick, tight strokes, he wanted desperately to get off in the tight heat of Bucky's ass.

It occurred to him to ask whether Bucky had done this before, but he swallowed the question before actually speaking. The answer, whatever it was, had a pretty strong chance of being worse than an argument for breaking the mood. Bucky wanted to. That was enough to know.

Instead Steve asked, "Lube?"

Bucky nodded but went on dropping soft, sweet kisses over Steve's chest and stroking his cock until Steve was panting for it, writhing under him. Steve gave him a gentle shove toward the side of the bed, just enough to dislodge him. Bucky made a showy outraged noise, but he was already shaking his ass invitingly as he turned away to yank open a drawer of the bedside table. 

He spread his knees wide as he uncapped the tube, still facing the edge of the bed. Steve watched him reach back with slick fingers. He circled his hole with two fingertips, getting it wet, and then pushed in. Steve stared at the stretch of his hole, his fingers disappearing inside. 

Bucky's hand moved fast, efficiently, twisting and pumping in and out. He could have been brushing his teeth.

Steve knew this wasn't going to feel good to Bucky the way it would for him, but he didn't want it to be entirely... mechanical. Even if--especially if--that was all Bucky expected from this part. Even if it couldn't be _good_ for Bucky, it could still be better than that.

Steve rolled on his side and reached out, running his hand down over the curve of Bucky's ass. Bucky froze. 

"Sorry," Steve said, jerking his hand back a millimeter. "Should I not--"

"No, you," Bucky sounded a little breathless, and Steve wanted to see his face suddenly, wanted to know where he'd gone in his head to get himself ready for this. "You can, it's fine. Just surprised me."

"Come here," Steve said, flattening his hand to Bucky's flesh again. "Come over here, let me see you."

Bucky made a little frustrated noise but obeyed, moving to straddle Steve. He tried to do it with his back to Steve, but Steve guided him the other way, so Bucky was facing him. 

It meant that he could see Bucky's cock hanging limp and unaffected, nudged out of the way by Bucky's wrist as he fingered himself. Was that what Bucky didn't want him to see?

Steve reached out and Bucky shook his head sharply, pushing Steve's hand away with his metal one as he started working his fingers in his ass again. "Don't--don't touch my dick. Don't try to make this good for me, okay? That's not... it won't help."

Steve had a bad feeling that Bucky had stopped short of saying _that's not allowed_. "Can I touch you anywhere else?"

Bucky nodded. "The rest is all yours, doll. Just not that."

Steve took the lube from Bucky's metal fingers and slicked his own, keeping his eyes on Bucky's face. Bucky's eyes were nearly closed as he concentrated on his work. He kept moving his right hand between his legs, even when Steve reached back to touch. Steve pressed his finger against Bucky's rim where it was stretched around his fingers, felt the rhythmic motion of Bucky working his fingers in and out of himself.

"Do it," Bucky said, meeting his eyes and giving him a small, challenging smile. "Wanna be sure I can take you? Make sure."

Steve turned his hand awkwardly to catch Bucky's and make it still, and then he pressed his index finger to the base of the two fingers Bucky had buried in his own ass. For a moment he wasn't sure he could do it without hurting him--not from this angle, not without Bucky being a little more cooperative--but then his fingertip caught the rim of Bucky's ass and he was pushing into that heat, clutching tight at his finger but yielding to it. His finger was pressed to two of Bucky's, all three inside him. Bucky grinned and closed his fingers around Steve's and rocked them together, in and out.

"See?" Bucky said. "All ready for you, doll."

"It's not that I didn't believe you could," Steve said, letting his head fall back against the pillow, crooking his finger inside. "Just wanted to feel--"

He got just the right angle and Bucky's eyelids flickered down, his mouth falling open for a second.

Before Steve was even sure what he'd seen, Bucky was yanking his fingers and Steve's out of himself. He grabbed the lube from Steve's lax grip and slicked Steve's cock in a few quick motions. Bucky lined himself up, and Steve wanted to watch his cock slide into the tight grip of Bucky's ass, but he couldn't take his eyes from Bucky's face.

Steve saw it there again, as he struggled to keep his own eyes open with Bucky sliding down onto his cock. There was a flash of pleasure on Bucky's face--somehow, this _did_ feel good to him. His cock was still soft, lying heavy between Bucky's thigh and Steve's belly as Bucky bottomed out, but there was something else going on here. 

Bucky closed his eyes and rocked himself on Steve's cock, and Steve's breath caught at the sight of it. Bucky was taking his own pleasure, using Steve's cock to feel good.

"Buck," Steve said softly, his hands carefully resting on Bucky's thighs, still not touching where he was forbidden. If Bucky could...

But Bucky shook his head as he opened his eyes, deliberately leaning forward to change the angle. The greedy pleasure was wiped from his expression as if it had never been there, replaced by a confident smirk. "I got you, Stevie. Just lie back and think of--"

Steve groaned and shoved at him--half at the joke, half really wanting Bucky to go back to what he'd been doing, using Steve's cock. But Bucky pushed past Steve's hands, bending low enough to kiss as he started working his ass up and down on Steve's cock, clenching impossibly tighter at the top of each stroke. Steve couldn't help pushing up into him, kissing Bucky's open mouth when it was close enough. His hands ran up and down Bucky's thighs, up his back. His fingers spread wide over his shoulders as Bucky worked his cock.

Bucky knew what he was doing, and it didn't take long before Steve was thrusting up into him constantly, making Bucky really ride him. Bucky took it perfectly, steadying himself with both hands against Steve's chest and teasing his nipples. Steve dug his own fingers into Bucky's thighs to keep from reaching for Bucky's chest--he didn't know if Bucky would like it, and if he _did_ that might mean Steve _shouldn't_. He settled for fucking Bucky as hard as he could like this, trying to get the right leverage, the right angle, to wring one more second of surprised pleasure from Bucky.

He didn't get it before he tipped over the edge himself, the shocking rush of completion making him forget to want anything else. He came buried inside Bucky, his mouth open and head tipped back. 

Bucky stayed close, and when Steve could start to think coherently again, Bucky was lying on top of him, his face tucked against Steve's shoulder. Steve set one hand gently on Bucky's ass, and he felt the full-body shiver that went through Bucky in response.

"I didn't lie," Bucky said quietly, clear enough for Steve to hear.

Steve winced. He hadn't been about to accuse Bucky of it, but...

"I can't get off on getting fucked," Bucky said, and the flatness of his voice wasn't so much calm as resigned. 

"Sometimes there's--there's a second where it feels good, right at the start. But then it's like candy. More is just more, not better, and too much more just makes me feel sick. Literally. As long as I don't try to get off on it, I don't feel sick."

Steve closed his eyes and ducked his head to hide his face against Bucky's hair, letting all the implications of that shake through him. They'd raped him. They'd raped him and made sure he could never take pleasure from it, and then they'd forced him to take pleasure from doing the same to others. 

Steve remembered all over again, Bucky saying _you don't want it_ , and he finally understood what Bucky had really been saying. He'd known exactly what it felt like to his victims. He'd been one of those victims, and he'd been forced to do the same to others, knowing exactly how it felt. 

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and said quietly, "When you're ready. When you want to. And I'll stop you if I need you to stop."

He felt some tension leak out of Bucky--relief at being believed, and having his limits accepted. Steve kissed Bucky's hair, running a hand gently up and down his spine, in silent apology for allowing Bucky to wonder whether he would.

"Maybe," Bucky said after a while. "Sometime. If you're sure you won't let me hurt you too much."

* * *

Steve had never been more glad to see Bucky leave for therapy than he was the next day. He knew nothing had actually changed--Bucky had always suffered what he had suffered, whether or not Steve understood the particulars. But he was freshly aware of how far out of his depth he was at helping Bucky with anything other than actually having sex, and intensely relieved that there was an expert for Bucky to turn to.

Bucky stayed out for more than an hour past the usual time it took him to complete his session and return home. Steve wasn't sure what to expect when he did come back, but Bucky carrying a large, discreetly unlabeled shopping bag full of discreetly wrapped boxes was not it.

Bucky set it down without comment next to the coffee table, giving Steve a chance to see the contents. He sat down next to Steve on the couch, sagging against him like he was too tired to stay upright. 

Steve tentatively raised an arm and draped it around Bucky's shoulders. Bucky made a little relieved sound and slumped completely into Steve's side. Steve tightened his grip and leaned his cheek against Bucky's hair. 

"Rough day at therapy?"

Bucky huffed. "Therapy was fine. The _retail therapy_ was... a lot."

Steve frowned at the shopping bag. He understood what all those words meant, and clearly it worked out to _going shopping_ , but... "Retail therapy?"

"Yeah," Bucky sighed. "Doc says once in a while the solution to a problem actually is to go spend a bunch of money on shiny objects."

"Shiny..." Steve repeated, eyeing the boxes and the bag, all so carefully unlabeled.

"Only one of 'em's actually shiny," Bucky said. "Mostly they're sort of... flesh colored."

Steve's cheeks started to heat as he put the pieces together. "Bucky, what problem were you trying to solve, exactly?"

"I wanna fuck you," Bucky said, as though this were old news, thoroughly established, and not something they'd barely managed to touch on yesterday. "But I don't wanna fuck you for the first time like _that_."

Flesh colored, Bucky had said. Steve's brain stalled completely for a second. Before he had it working again he heard himself say, "I have done it before. It wouldn't be my first time."

Bucky pulled away to sit upright and said, "Jesus _Christ_ , Steve."

For a second Steve thought Bucky was scandalized at Steve having given it up to anyone else, but Bucky said, "If you--Jesus, Steve, if you hadn't at _all_ I'd never-- _fuck_."

"Had you?" Steve asked, stupidly. "Before..."

"Yeah," Bucky said, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "The baths at Coney Island, a couple of times in England. You?"

"Not until I got here," Steve said, and Bucky dropped his hand and stared again, making Steve glare at him. "I was busy, Buck. Not exactly a catch, and then busy." 

To say nothing of being so gone on Bucky Barnes that no other guy he met could measure up, but Bucky had evidently managed to work around his side of that problem. Steve couldn't blame Bucky for that--God, what a waste it would have been if Bucky had never done it before it was ruined for him--but he'd never been any good at it himself. He didn't bother trying very hard until he came to the future and was facing a lifetime with no Bucky, no Peggy, and a serum-powered sex drive. 

"I've hooked up a few times in the last three years. Tried things out. I've gotten fucked. It's fine."

Bucky's eyebrows lifted slightly. "You don't like it."

It wasn't a question, and it wasn't untrue. Steve shrugged. "It's not bad, I just don't... get off on it, on its own. So there's no danger of me liking it too much, if you want to fuck me when we're pretending."

"Do you," Bucky said, his gaze darting down to the shopping bag. What the hell had he bought? How _many_? "Do you not want..."

Steve shrugged again. "If you want to try it out, I don't mind. And I'm not the one who needs to be able to get it up for that."

"I want you to like it, though," Bucky insisted, sidestepping the question of getting it up himself. But then he had a whole shopping bag of flesh colored solutions to that problem. Steve found himself starting to get turned on from sheer curiosity about what Bucky might be planning to fuck him with. 

"I mean, if we're doing this as us, I want it to be good for you."

"I don't _not_ like it," Steve insisted. "It just doesn't do anything for me. You'd have to put some work into it if you want me to get off at the same time, that's all. But if you want to try it, we can try it. I mean, apparently you bought a whole bunch of..."

Steve waved his hand at the bag, words failing him.

Bucky's determined look bent into a devilish grin, and Steve's heart started beating faster at the sight. He had a sudden distinct memory of the Cyclone. 

_You can do this, Stevie_ , that look said. _Come on, it'll be great. You don't want to miss out._

"Buck," Steve said. "I really... I mean, it's okay if I don't--"

"Oh no," Bucky said, leaning in. "You're gonna like this. I'm gonna put so much work into it, you're not gonna have any goddamn choice but to like it."

Fully aware of his own cowardice, Steve said, "I have to leave in half an hour. Kids. Hospital. Thing."

"Sure you do, doll," Bucky said, leaning in further, close enough to kiss, but not touching his lips to Steve's. "Guess you don't find out what's in the bag until you get home, then."

"Dammit, Bucky," Steve muttered.

He took the kiss Bucky wouldn't give him, and kept kissing him until Bucky took charge and kissed him breathless. It took a lot more effort nowadays than it would have if they'd done this sooner, but Bucky never was one to shy away from hard work. 

Steve was dizzy and dazed by the time Bucky let him up and said, "You'd better get dressed. And wash your face."

The swollen lips and stubble burn were gone by the time he got to the hospital, but not before Natasha spent an entire elevator ride smirking fondly in the general direction of Steve's mouth.

* * *

The hospital appearance went about like it always did--kind of sad, but satisfying too. Steve felt useful cheering up kids, and he almost never had to hold any little ones. 

Mercifully, he didn't have time to think about anything else at all for those couple of hours. That was not the case for the press thing afterward, or the drinks Natasha insisted on after that, or the dinner that drinks morphed into, with Sam and Clint and Bruce. 

Steve told himself he shouldn't be looking forward to it--he didn't like getting fucked, it wasn't going to be that great--but he kept seeing Bucky's grin and feeling himself start to rev up all over again. It was going to be good. Bucky wouldn't settle for anything less, and Steve wasn't going to tell him not to. He kept catching himself clenching his left fist, and it took until the third or fourth time before he realized it was because he felt like he'd picked up the bell and was just waiting for the action to start. 

Natasha shot him another knowing look when he gave up and excused himself without even waiting for the conversation to wind down to a breaking point, but no one tried to make him stay. He only had to take the elevator back up to his and Bucky's floor, and the ride felt eternal and much too short all at once. When he got there the whole apartment was dark except for light coming from the open door to Bucky's bedroom.

Steve set his shield down by the door and headed for Bucky's room. He stopped in the doorway at the sight of Bucky, who was sprawled naked on the bed, studying his tablet. Steve's gaze went helplessly, instantly, to Bucky's cock, lying limp and still between his casually-spread thighs. 

It was slightly shiny, like it was wet.

There was a towel next to Bucky on the bed, folded over, covering a half-dozen roughly oblong shapes. Steve's left fist clenched. He tapped his knuckles against his thigh and said, "Hey, Buck."

"Hey," Bucky said without looking up. He'd shaved, so he wouldn't stubble-burn... anything. "You want to clean up or anything before your ass is ready for a close up?"

Steve's eyes closed as he laughed, helplessly. When he opened his eyes Bucky was watching him with a warmly amused look. 

"I'll go shower," Steve said, still grinning. "I'll be right back."

"Take as much time as you need," Bucky said, the warm look turning hot. It was almost enough to make Steve forget that he was the only one who had any kind of shot at getting off tonight.

He washed up quickly and efficiently in the shower. He had done this before; he did know what to expect. When he was done he dried off and hung up his towel, padding naked through the dim apartment back to Bucky's room.

Bucky was sitting at the end of the bed this time. He was still naked, smiling as he leaned back on his hands. Steve's gaze skipped past him to the shapes covered by the towel, but Bucky said, "Hey, the toys aren't fucking you. I am."

Steve redirected his attention, stepping up to the bed to straddle Bucky's lap. He rested his hands on Bucky's shoulders as he bent his head for a kiss. Bucky hummed encouragingly against Steve's mouth and settled his hands on Steve's hips, tugging him down to rest his weight on Bucky's thighs. 

Bucky's mouth was easy under his, relaxed, letting Steve control the kiss while Bucky's hands wandered over Steve's body. He didn't make any obvious moves on Steve's ass, and didn't touch his cock, which had been feeling blood-hot and sensitive for hours and was filling now just from the touch of Bucky's naked body.

Whatever happened, it was going to be good. Weird, probably, but good. 

Bucky was apparently content to keep kissing and aimlessly petting him all night. When Steve was hard enough that his cock was bumping against Bucky's abs, he finally pulled back to say, "So? What's the plan?"

Bucky grinned. "Well the first part of the plan was to make you ask for it, so I guess we took care of that."

Steve rolled his eyes and swung off of Bucky, crawling up the bed on all fours toward the towel-covered objects just to make Bucky stop him. Bucky did, catching him by the hips instead of tackling him. Steve squirmed in his grip, shaking his ass at Bucky. 

"You," Bucky sighed and then kissed him just at the top of each ass cheek. "It is a fucking shame that you don't actually like this, doll. Are you sure they weren't just awful? The guys you hooked up with? Fucking Captain America would throw anybody off his game."

"They tried hard," Steve said, shrugging and looking back over his shoulder at Bucky, wanting to be sure Bucky was clear on this. "I didn't have any complaints. I even tried it myself--fingers and stuff. I think I'm just not wired for it."

Bucky sighed and shook his head, looking down at Steve's ass framed between his hands. "But you don't mind me trying?"

"Do I look like I mind?" Steve asked, letting only a little impatience leak into his voice. Just enough so Bucky knew he meant it. "It's fine, Buck. I didn't mind doing this with guys I didn't give a damn about. For you I'd..."

"Yeah," Bucky said. "Yeah, we both know what you'd do for me. Just--get a pillow and put your head down, all right?"

Bucky pushed him further up the bed, and Steve settled himself the way Bucky wanted him. He had his head and folded arms resting on a pillow, chest against the bed, ass still in the air. 

Bucky knelt behind him, spreading him open and kissing his way in from the curves of Steve's ass to the center. Steve tried to concentrate on what he was doing here. It was Bucky; Bucky wanted him to feel good. It ought to feel good--nerve endings were nerve endings, after all, and he liked Bucky's mouth everywhere else on his body.

Bucky licked over his hole, and Steve made a startled noise, half choked back. No matter how much he expected it, it always just felt _weird_. 

"Steve?"

"It's okay," Steve said. "Just--weird."

"Huh," Bucky said. He licked again, slower and firmer, and Steve shivered a little at the strange sensation but managed not to either tense up or make a sound. 

"Huh," Bucky repeated. "God, if I could stand it I'd make you rim me for fucking hours, you know that?"

Steve's cock stirred a little at that, picturing it. _Hours_. 

"I would," he said, helpless to keep his voice from sounding just as fervent as he felt. "If you wanted me to."

Bucky laughed against the wetness of Steve's ass, and Steve twitched at the sensation. Bucky just started licking him again, alternating soft little kitten-licks and harder prodding with his tongue. Steve stayed patiently still, letting himself get used to it. It helped him feel where he needed to relax, at least; he concentrated on easing himself open for Bucky.

His eyes flicked toward the covered shapes of the toys again. How many of those was Bucky planning on using, exactly? What _were_ they?

"Are you looking at the toys again?" Bucky asked, and given that Steve knew where Bucky's tongue was while he was talking, the gentle but firm pressure against his rim had to be a finger. So they were moving on from the licking, at least.

"No," Steve said, closing his eyes as he spoke. 

"Uh-huh," Bucky said. "Put your head down. Just feel for a little while, okay?"

"Bucky, honestly," Steve said, even as he obediently hid his eyes against his wrist. "It's not--"

Bucky's finger pushed into him in a slick, wet slide, working inside him while Bucky went back to licking him. Bucky's fingertip quickly found the spot inside him that shot that weird, ticklish feeling through his body, and Steve hissed between his teeth. 

Bucky stopped.

"It's okay," Steve said. "Go on."

"Fucking shame, doll," Bucky muttered, pressing what felt like an absurdly chaste, pursed-lip kiss to the skin just above his hole. "Okay. Just relax."

"I know," Steve said, trying not to bite off the words too sharply. He did know how this worked, but he also knew that Bucky wanted to be gentle with him. It wasn't Bucky's fault that the process wasn't pleasurable at all.

He remembered, suddenly, Bucky's unresponsive cock in his own mouth, the first time he'd spend the night in Bucky's bed. He squirmed a little on Bucky's tongue and finger, but kept his eyes closed as he said, "Bucky? That time I..."

He couldn't say _sucked you off_ , because that suggested getting some kind of result.

"That time..." Bucky prompted as he eased another finger into him, tugging at his rim. Steve made himself stay relaxed against the foreign sensation.

"When I sucked your dick," Steve said. "Did it feel like..."

"Like this?" Bucky licked him again, working his fingers in and out. "I hope so. That was good, like a long kiss. Just wasn't going anywhere."

"Mm," Steve said. He'd rather be kissing Bucky, or sucking his dick. But neither of those would get him ready to be fucked. 

Bucky huffed a little noise against his ass and said, "Well, there's my answer. Stevie, don't pick up the towel, just reach under it and give me the thing all the way on the right."

Steve's hand shot out fast, like what was under the towel might escape. He recognized what he touched, all the way on the right, even before he eased it out from under the towel: a bottle of lube.

He handed it back to Bucky without editorializing, and Bucky said, "And now the third--no, fourth one from the left."

Steve tapped his fingers across the shapes of them, tapping on the fourth, and he waited for Bucky to say, "Yeah, that."

This shape didn't have the sharp-edged cylindrical shape or liquid heft of the bottle of lube. It was firm but yielding under his fingers, with irregular rounded edges, and he couldn't help staring at it as he passed it back to Bucky--a weird teardrop-shaped thing that narrowed down to a sort of stem before widening to a curved oblong. 

It was, as Bucky had said, flesh colored.

"You ready for me to put this in you?" Bucky asked, taking it from him. 

Steve's left hand closed into a fist against the pillow. 

"Yeah," he said. "Sure. Try to make it sound a little less sexy, though, Buck, I'm gonna lose it."

Bucky snorted. "Brace yourself for anal insertion number one, Rogers."

"Roger, wilco." Steve rested his forehead against his wrist and tilted into Bucky's touch. Bucky's fingers were still in him, just resting there. He could hear the wet sounds of Bucky slicking the thing up.

"What's it called?" Steve asked. 

"A butt plug, how's that for sexy," Bucky said. 

Steve let himself make a face into the pillow at the slithery wrong feeling of Bucky's fingers sliding out. The narrow tip of the butt plug touched him next, breaching him easily, but Steve remembered the way the thing flared out. He could picture how it would go into him, stretching him open, and he tried to let it happen.

Bucky just teased with it, though, pressing against his hole without actually pushing it in. Steve could feel how wet it was, and that it was hard enough to penetrate but not unyielding. It wouldn't hurt him. 

Steve pushed back against it just as Bucky was teasing a little harder, and it sank into him in a startling smooth motion, stretching him open. Steve made a muffled noise against the pillow, more surprise than pain. 

Bucky toyed with the thing, pushing in and pulling out a few times to make him take the widest part again and again. Finally Bucky pushed it all the way in, and Steve could feel it holding him open as the curved piece of it slotted into place in the crack of his ass, anchoring the rest.

Plug, Bucky had said, and Steve understood abruptly. This would stay inside him--he could use this, if he got himself ready for Bucky, to keep himself stretched open through a struggle. His shiver this time had nothing to do with the sensation from the thing in his ass.

"Okay," Bucky said, "that's step one. Turn over for me."

Steve obeyed, moving gingerly around the sensation of something in, and also halfway out of, his ass. He twitched hard as Bucky guided him to sit on the bed. The motion and pressure made it impossible to feel anything except that strange unmoving penetration.

"Okay," Steve said, looking up at Bucky kneeling over him, his hands still resting on Steve's shoulders. He summoned up a game smile. "What now?"

Bucky was looking him over with a thoughtful expression shading toward concern. "Are you sure you can get off getting fucked, Steve? You don't..."

"Yeah, I can," Steve said, although technically he'd never done it until after the fucking stopped. That was just a matter of timing, he was pretty sure--he could get close, but the guy fucking him inevitably came right around then and wrecked the momentum.

That wouldn't be a problem with Bucky, at least. 

"I just need something that's not the fucking," Steve added. "So if there's a step two..."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, stretching out beside him. "Come here, you can be on top, whatever feels the best for you, okay?"

Steve stretched out along with Bucky, leaning over him as he worked out the least-weird-feeling position. He wound up with his weight propped on his knees and one elbow, Bucky stretched out warm and patient and amused beneath him.

"Now come here," Bucky said, tugging him closer. Steve sighed relief against Bucky's lips and kissed him like he was grabbing a lifeline. _This_ was what he needed, the feeling of real connection, something he actually wanted to distract him from what he was putting up with--to remind him why he was putting up with it, even if he didn't have Bucky's cock in his ass now. 

Bucky alternated between deep, filthy kisses and light teasing ones, making Steve push into it and catch his mouth again and again. Bucky's left hand was on his chest, teasing his nipples, while Bucky's right hand found his sagging cock, nearly entirely soft after the whole business of getting his ass plugged. 

Bucky touched him lightly, coaxing, and the slow burn of arousal he'd been feeling for the last few hours flared to life. Steve pushed into his hand and then froze as the motion made him tighten around the plug. It felt huge again, sending that weird ticklish shock through him.

"Shh, shh, you can do it," Bucky murmured, stroking him. "Let me help."

Steve kissed Bucky roughly, hard and fast, with all the frustration he would never show any other way for this plan. But the kissing and groping and Bucky's hand on his cock all had the inevitable effects. He fell into the eager rhythm of it, ignoring the pressure in his ass and the occasional unsettling twinges as his cock firmed up in Bucky's grip. Soon he was fucking down into Bucky's fist, the persistent sensation of the butt plug receding into unimportance.

The pleasure was building toward inevitability when Bucky rolled him over onto his back. Steve snarled into Bucky's mouth, arching against the fresh awareness of the thing in his ass. Bucky pushed right back, tightening his grip on Steve's cock before it could flag, shoving his tongue in roughly to lick up the sound of Steve's frustration.

Steve let himself be distracted again, letting Bucky work him over until he couldn't feel anything else. Bucky's mouth left his to kiss his throat, lower and lower. Steve squirmed and whined, missing the kiss immediately. He shoved his fingers into his mouth to stop any more mortifying noises from escaping while Bucky was busy kissing his chest and jerking him off.

Bucky moved lower again, and he'd barely touched his mouth to Steve's cock before the awareness of where this was going cut through the haze of pleasure. Steve's left hand flashed open, but that didn't help. 

"Nnh," he said, swimming up out of the haze of pleasure that was blotting out everything else. "Bucky, Buck, stop--"

Bucky yanked away from him so sharply that it felt like a bucket of cold water, but that was all to the good. "Steve? Sorry, we can--"

"No, I just," Steve shook his head, his mouth twisting in an apologetic half-smile. 

"You can't make me come too early, not if," Steve waved at the other four shapes still hidden under the towel. "Not if you're planning on putting anything else into me after."

Bucky's anxious look turned calculating. "Dealbreaker?"

Steve shrugged. "If you want me to like it, yeah. I've tried that, it just--makes everything _more_. Not better. You want me to come with something in my ass, that better be where the show stops."

"Well then I should probably get on with fucking you," Bucky agreed.

He stretched out over Steve and kissed him, giving his cock a few gentle, apologetic strokes before he slid his hand down to press against the plug in Steve's ass. Steve tilted his hips, eyeing the shapes under the towel. They all looked bigger than the thing in his ass, but that made sense--Bucky had to be working up to whatever he meant to use at the end.

"So however much you don't like this," Bucky muttered. "At least this part is going to be fucking hilarious. Give me the first one."

Steve reached under the towel and pulled out the nearest shape. It felt glossy-smooth in his hand, more rigid than the plug but lighter. Hollow.

It was clear, he discovered as he pulled it out, made of some flexible transparent plastic. It was shaped like a dick, but hollow, with a loop at the end, and the void inside was half full of a clear liquid that had to be lube.

So that explained the shine on Bucky's dick when he came in.

"Tried it on already?" Steve asked, aiming for matter of fact and not missing by too far, he thought.

"Had to choose which one to use somehow," Bucky agreed, taking his dick in hand and lining it up with the sheath that would make it hard enough to fuck him. He shot Steve a look of grim amusement, acknowledging the farce of this whole thing in a single glance.

Steve felt a surge of protectiveness that was all upside down and backward when he was the one about to get fucked. Well, it wasn't like he and Bucky were doing anything else the right way around.

"Hey, let me do that," Steve said. 

Bucky's amused look fractured into something startled and almost shy. 

"I've put condoms on guys who fucked me before," Steve tried. "This one's just... thicker."

"You say the sweetest fucking things," Bucky muttered, shaking his head, but he moved closer between Steve's legs, tilting the sheath in his direction. Steve sat up, making a face at the way it moved the plug inside him, but that wasn't really important right now. He took the sheath from Bucky's hand, squeezing it a little to see that it gave in his grip. 

"That was the main thing," Bucky said, as Steve circled his fingers gently around Bucky's cock, guiding the head to the opening.

Steve looked up, and Bucky gave a wry little half-smile and said, "I want to be able to feel you on my cock. When I make you come, I'm gonna feel it."

Steve shuddered a little at that--even now, even at the most embarrassing stage of this process, Bucky was sure he was going to make this good. Even now, Steve believed him.

Steve leaned forward and closed his mouth on the head of Bucky's cock, sucking softly. There was a little bit of lube taste to it, and the lingering smell of plastic cutting through the smell of Bucky, which wasn't the musk of sex right now. Just Bucky's body, clean and a little sweaty. Steve sucked softly--a long kiss--and then drew back to guide Bucky's cock into the sheath. It went easily once he found the angle, and Steve drew it up until he had to figure out what to do with the loop.

"Balls," Bucky said succinctly, and he reached down to guide them into place while Steve fitted the ring around them. 

Steve gave Bucky's cock another squeeze through the sheath, and Bucky made a weird little noise that made Steve look up with a grin. Bucky was smiling back.

"Feels different when you do it," Bucky said. "Looks different."

Steve looked down again and realized right then why the thing was clear. "You can see. When you fuck me, you can see it's you inside me, not just some toy."

"Yeah," Bucky said. "That's the idea here. Lay back for me now."

Steve obeyed, drawing his knees up and tilting his hips, and Bucky said, "Breathe."

Steve tilted his head back and inhaled, making a face on the exhale at the feeling of the plug sliding out of him. A second later Bucky was pushing in, and Steve had to watch that, pushing up onto his elbows to see as much as he could. This was their first time, the first time that would count, not like whatever would come later, when they were pretending. 

Bucky with the sheath on was only a little thicker than the plug's widest point, but longer, stretching him deeper than the plug had touched. Steve bit his lip and tilted into it, welcoming the straightforwardness of the hot stretching ache as Bucky pushed inside him. 

Steve figured out all over again how to relax into it as Bucky eased slowly inside, one long steady push until he was all the way in. Bucky leaned in further, rolling Steve's hips up and folding him in half so Bucky could kiss him. Steve curled a hand around the back of Bucky's neck and kissed him as welcomingly as he knew how. 

He could feel tiny motions inside him, _Bucky_ inside him. It still didn't feel good in a way that was going to get him off, but there was no one else he'd rather have like this. 

"All right, doll," Bucky murmured, smiling as he pulled back from the kiss. "Play with your tits for me, huh?"

Steve fell back against the bed and brought his arms up, pressing in to squeeze his pecs together as he plucked at one nipple. Bucky leaned in--pushing his cock in deeper, more pressure and stretch but nothing Steve couldn't handle. His tongue curled around Steve's fingers. 

Steve closed his eyes, trying to feel nothing but his own fingers and Bucky's mouth. When Bucky's hand closed on his cock again it shocked a hungry noise out of him, and it didn't take long before he was hard again, fucking Bucky's fist while Bucky fucked him, the wet slap of flesh on flesh doubled between them. 

"God, Stevie," Bucky murmured against his chest. "I would give my other goddamn arm to be able to do this for real, when I'm me and you're you."

"Take one of mine, I got two," Steve replied, raising one hand to the back of Bucky's head and drawing his mouth back down. Bucky used his teeth, wringing another sharp cry from Steve. He fucked in harder, whether from frustrated desire or because he realized that Steve could take pain more easily than anything else. 

Steve tried tightening around him on purpose, which made Bucky snarl out a low, furious, " _fuck_ ," and thrust into him harder. Bucky's hand on him moved faster. He was leaving stinging kisses all over Steve's chest, and every bit of it was Bucky, everything he could feel. Steve let himself be overwhelmed, all the sensations sinking together into a tangle of pleasure and pain and pure intensity that tipped him over the edge.

He could feel every pulsing clench of his ass on Bucky's cock as he came, his cock spurting in Bucky's hand, splashing his chest--his tits--and his fingers and Bucky's mouth. He dragged his eyes open after a while to find Bucky staring down at him with an expression he couldn't read--proud and fond and sad all at once. He was still inside Steve, though not moving, so Steve could bear it a little longer, though it already felt bigger, more intrusive, now that he'd come.

"So that worked," Steve said, feeling a little dazed at how well it had worked. 

Bucky nodded and kissed him, and Steve winced at the way it moved Bucky's cock inside him but kissed back anyway. 

"If you," Steve muttered as Bucky's lips left his. "If we keep this up, you could probably--"

Steve cut himself off abruptly, just barely realizing what he was saying before he said it. 

Bucky's expression blanked out, and he looked down inscrutably at Steve for a second. "I could probably what, Steve."

Steve shook his head a fraction, and Bucky jerked his hips deliberately, driving a pained little sound from Steve's lips. 

"Say it," Bucky insisted.

Steve closed his eyes. "You could teach me to like it."

"Train you," Bucky said, softly, as though it were something sweet. He kissed Steve's chin, his throat, his collarbone. "Condition you."

Bucky's lips brushed over one nipple and his hips twitched, jostling his dick inside Steve. He didn't make a sound this time, but Steve couldn't hold back a shudder.

"Program you," Bucky growled, scraping his teeth over Steve's skin.

"If you wanted to," Steve said without opening his eyes, curling his fingers in Bucky's hair. "I'd let you. I wouldn't really mind learning to like getting fucked by the guy I love."

Bucky let out a long sigh and then eased out of him. Steve heard the little wet sounds of Bucky getting the sheath off before he stretched out next to Steve. He was smiling wryly again when Steve opened his eyes.

Bucky said quietly, "It'd be counterproductive anyway."

"Sure," Steve said, and tugged Bucky closer. He did understand. Those were the rules. It could only be good for one of them at a time.

For now, anyway.

* * *

The distraction of the plug inside him made it easier than ever to be ineffectual at fighting back. It was almost a relief when the inevitable backhanded slap told him to stop fighting--except, of course, that he knew what was coming next.

"No," Steve gasped, exaggerating his sincere wince as the Soldier shoved him flat on his back. "No, please, please, don't--please, somebody help me--"

"Nobody's gonna help you," the Soldier growled, groping his chest roughly but not bothering to tear his shirt off. "Anybody hears you yelling, all they're gonna do is come join the fun. That what you want? You wanna get fucked by every guard in here when I'm done with you?"

"No," Steve gasped, and he let the horrific picture of that wash over him. It would've been STRIKE or someone like them, guys he knew or at least the types he'd known. He imagined them seeing him like this, at the Soldier's mercy, and doing nothing to help--he didn't have to try hard to picture their guns at the back of his head, and from there to them pawing at him, forcing him open--

"No," he moaned again, despairing. His face was hot, and helpless tears prickled at his eyes. "No, please, no, not that, not them."

"You don't want to take a dozen cocks?" the Soldier demanded, his hand sliding down to the waistband of the worn sweatpants Steve had put on when he was done getting ready. "You only want to take one?"

"No, no, please, don't, I don't, don't want any--"

The Soldier's metal hand hit him hard on the hip, making him arch and yell in real pain. When it faded he was facedown, hard hands yanking his pants down. He didn't have to try to feel ashamed and exposed under those hands, not when he had the plug already stretching him open, lube still wet in the crack of his ass. He tried to crawl away without thinking about what he was doing, reaching back with his right hand to try to pull his pants up, to stop the Soldier from seeing.

The Soldier caught his wrist, wrenching his hand away from his pants. He pressed Steve's right hand to the back of his head. "Keep your hands there."

Steve brought his left hand up to meet his right, flexing his grip on the bell enough for Bucky to see and letting the reminder steady him. Any mention of his hands was Bucky checking in, asking if he needed to stop.

"No," Steve panted against the floor, reaching for that ugly imagining to keep himself sounding scared enough, rocking his hips to feel the plug's reminder of what was coming next. "No, please, not that, just not that."

The Soldier's left hand clamped down implacably on the back of Steve's thigh, and his right hand rained a flurry of stinging spanks over his ass. Steve let himself feel every ounce of the humiliation and pain of being beaten like this while each blow rocked the plug inside him. The pressure inside was almost as sickening as pain, and the anticipation of worse made him tense up helplessly around it.

"No, no, no, stop, please, please--" his voice broke on a proper sob, and he let himself fall under the current of the pretending. The next noise he made was just a wail. 

The spanking kept going while he writhed and screamed into the carpet, his hands still crossed at the back of his neck, both fists clenched tight. When the blows stopped he could hear his own wet, ragged breathing, and the rasp of the Soldier unzipping his pants.

Steve sobbed again, pressing himself flat to the carpeting, but the Soldier moved between his legs, forcing Steve's thighs apart with his knees. He shoved at the plug roughly, making it press deeper inside. Steve keened at the thought of the Soldier forcing the whole thing into him and fucking him right on top of it, jamming it into his guts so deep he'd never get it out. He shook his head frantically under his clenched fists--flexed his fingers on the bell again--and now the Soldier was tugging at the end of the plug, making it press against his hole from the inside.

"What's this, huh?" the Soldier demanded. "Trying to keep me out? Or just so fucking hungry for it you couldn't even wait to get raped? Was that it? You just have to have something in you?"

"No," Steve insisted. "No, please, no, I hate it, I hate you, don't touch me--"

He screamed again as the Soldier yanked it out in one fast, vicious pull. He'd been tensed around it, and the sudden exit stabbed through his guts. He'd barely had a chance to catch his breath before something else was pushing in, thick and hot and hard--the Soldier's cock, forcing its way into him where he was slicked and open for it. 

He hunched his hips, trying uselessly to get away, but the Soldier was already pushing into him, hands clamped hard on Steve's hips. It felt like being split open, and the more it hurt the more he tensed up on the cock battering its way into him. The wrongness of it was sickening, like a bone out of joint, this thing pushing inside his body, but there was no escape, nowhere to hide. He held tight to the bell and didn't fight, just sobbed into the carpet as every thrust forced another helpless sound from his body.

"So fucking tight," the Solder growled, ramming into him again and again. "Keep fighting, kid, it feels so good busting you open."

He went limp at that, screaming silently into the carpet as his whole body abruptly accepted its defeat. His ass still clenched reflexively tight around the cock inside him, but every other muscle went loose. He barely caught the bell as it started to slip from his slackening grip, and then the Soldier was groaning above him, stabbing into him one last time as he came.

Steve closed his eyes and focused on keeping his grip on the bell, trying to feel nothing but his fingers and that delicate grip. As soon as he felt Bucky sagging above him, though, he dropped both hands to the carpet, letting the bell escape. It rolled away gently, its jingle softened by the carpet.

Bucky heard it anyway. Steve could feel him jerk to alertness where they were still joined. He set one hand gently on Steve's shoulder, bracing the other on Steve's hip. 

"Okay, pal," and the familiar soothing words sounded strangely flattened. He was still wearing the mask. "Deep breath."

Steve's breath shook, but he inhaled as deeply as he could, bracing for the sensation of Bucky pulling out. It was a relief to have nothing inside him, except that now he couldn't ignore how raw and broken-open he felt.

"Okay," Bucky squeezed and let go of Steve's shoulder, and his next words were accompanied by the sound of the mask and goggles hitting the floor. His other hand was still gentle on Steve's hip, avoiding the places that throbbed with fresh bruises. He moved from between Steve's legs, pushing gently to shift him onto his side.

Steve's breath was still shaky as he turned his head out of the carpet. Bucky settled down facing him on the floor, his face crumpled in concern. 

"Aw, hell, I got you good there," Bucky murmured, his flesh fingers skipping lightly over the side of Steve's face, making him aware of how raw it felt--scraped by the carpet when he was facedown getting fucked. Steve winced, and the sting of it startled a shaky gasp from him, making fresh tears fill his eyes even though it was nothing, really. Not compared to the pain where he'd been fucked, the bruises from Bucky's grip. 

Bucky's hand cupped warmly on Steve's cheek, and Bucky scooted in to kiss his forehead. Steve closed his eyes against the shivering rush of need that woke in him at Bucky's touch. 

"Sorry, pal, I know that was awful, but you were so good for me. So good. You gonna let me take care of you now? Get you cleaned up?"

Steve nodded and told himself that at least he'd earned it this time. He didn't have to feel the least bit guilty about curling in toward the warmth of Bucky's body, even still encased in forbidding combat gear. 

"Yeah, I've got you," Bucky murmured, pressing more soft kisses along his hairline, keeping away from where it hurt as he wrapped his arm around Steve's back. Steve could feel himself shaking under the steadiness of Bucky's grip. "No more bad stuff. I'm gonna take good care of you now. Let's get off the floor, okay? Couch or bed?"

"Shower," Steve insisted, although he felt so wobbly, even lying down, that he wasn't sure he could stand up for one. But he could feel what was smeared all over his ass, and he wasn't going to bed like this. "I'm filthy."

He felt Bucky twitch a little at that, and realized that maybe it sounded bad, or like he didn't want to be able to feel Bucky all over him. He didn't want to feel the _Soldier_ all over him, but he didn't know if he could find words to explain the distinction to Bucky right now.

Bucky didn't make him, though, just said, "A shower it is. Come on, let's get up."

Bucky maneuvered him up without ever making him sit, and somehow he managed to lose his combat jacket at the same time. By the time they were both on their feet, Bucky's right arm was bare around him, and the shoulder Steve leaned into wore only an undershirt. 

Steve was putting a lot of his weight on that shoulder, but Bucky didn't offer or threaten to carry him, just coaxed him gently along from the living room into Bucky's bedroom and then into his shower. Steve remembered bolting to his own shower, after their first try at pretending. He didn't look at himself in the mirror while Bucky was helping him out of what remained of his clothes. 

"JARVIS, Steve's shower settings," Bucky said as he helped Steve into the shower, and the water switched on steaming-hot. Steve flinched and turned his face away when the spray hit the rug-burned patch on his forehead. He had to steady himself against the wall, and then Bucky was there, naked and crowding him against the wall and under the water. 

Steve grabbed hold of him with both hands, leaning into him shamelessly. Bucky stayed right there, just running his hands over Steve's skin under the hot water, rubbing through his hair and over his scalp, moving in long strokes from his shoulders to his waist. No lower.

Steve curled his hips in, his ass clenched tight against the touch of the water, even though it made him more aware of how sore he was, and how filthy. He knew where he needed to let the water run over him--that was the whole point of showering--but he knew it was going to hurt. It would just be a little sting, but somehow after everything else he couldn't bear to expose himself to that last dose of pain. 

Bucky didn't hurry him. He stood quietly until Steve was starting to feel a little woozy and lightheaded from the steamy heat. He leaned more heavily into Bucky, and Bucky took his weight for a while before he said, "We need to get you clean so you can come to bed with me and take a nap, Stevie."

Steve hid his face against Bucky's right shoulder and shook his head. "Hurts."

He felt Bucky tense at that, but his voice and hands were still gentle when he said, "Well now you really have to let me look, babydoll. Come on, I won't touch, I won't get any nasty soap or hot water on you, but you've gotta let me make sure you're not hurt too bad."

"Not like that," Steve muttered, clinging to Bucky. He was dimly aware that he shouldn't, that he was being childish and contradictory, but Bucky's body was solid, warm even in the steamy heat of the shower. He couldn't make himself let go. 

"Let me check," Bucky said firmly, enough that Steve both wanted to rebel and was aware of how childish it would be to keep arguing. He let Bucky pry his arms loose and turn him to face the wall, and he leaned gratefully against it while Bucky redirected the spray and moved behind him. His hands were infinitely gentle as he prodded Steve to spread his legs. 

Steve trembled as he did it, pressing his forehead hard to the wall. The shameful exposed feeling of being stripped by the Soldier came right back to him.

"Shh, shh," Bucky murmured, spreading his hands wide on Steve's thighs. 

"I've got you, babydoll, just let me take care of you. Nothing to be ashamed of. This is my job now, right? I've gotta take good care of you," and then the tone of Bucky's voice changed as he said, "Hell."

Steve tensed. "Bucky?"

"You're okay, Steve," Bucky said more firmly, his hands stroking in soothing short motions. "Just--a little blood."

"Sorry," Steve whispered. It had hurt, he'd known it hurt, but he figured it was going to. "Should I, did I--"

"No, hey, no, you did fine. You made the call," Bucky murmured, and the soft press of his mouth against the back of Steve's thigh seemed like punctuation to his words. "You did just right, you were perfect. You're not hurt really bad, just--just a little bit of blood. Just surprised me to see it, that's all."

Bucky's wet fingers touched him, high up on the inside of his thigh, scrubbing with just his fingertips. It didn't hurt. It felt like getting clean. Bucky rinsed his fingers and then rubbed some more, scratching delicately with his fingernails and then rubbing again. Steve felt himself relaxing into the attention. He spread his legs a little wider.

"That feel good, babydoll?" Bucky murmured, pressing a kiss just below where his fingers were working, getting Steve clean. "Getting nice and clean?"

Steve nodded and muttered, "Yeah, s'good."

"Good," Bucky murmured. "Gonna touch you higher up, now. Just my fingers, real gentle."

Steve tensed, but Bucky's fingers didn't touch his hole, the center of the aching-stinging pain. They just swiped over the inside of his ass cheek, where he felt greasy and sticky with leftover lube--and maybe come, or blood, or both. Bucky's wet fingers wiped some of the mess away, and Steve sighed and relaxed again, letting Bucky work, scrubbing and rinsing with his fingers again and again, slowly washing him clean everywhere he could bear to be touched.

"Stevie," Bucky said after a while, because there was only one place left. "You want me to leave it?"

Steve shook his head, spreading his legs a little wider. Maybe he shouldn't ask, but Bucky had made the mess, after all.

"Okay, doll," Bucky said softly. "Okay. Gonna touch you real soft this time. Gonna get you nice and clean."

Steve's breath caught at the soft, damp touch that swiped over the edge of his hole. That wasn't Bucky's finger. 

"Okay?" Bucky said again, his breath touching Steve where it hurt the worst, and that almost didn't hurt at all. 

"Okay," Steve managed. He had to get clean. Bucky was just getting him clean. Bucky's hands spread on his thighs and squeezed gently before Bucky's tongue touched him again, a little firmer, licking away the mess. Steve let out a little helpless noise, humiliated and grateful all at once. 

It hurt a little, but less than soap or hot water or a rough cloth, less than he could imagine anything else hurting. It was Bucky's mouth on his hole, where he was filthy and maybe still bleeding a little. Steve remembered suddenly the way it had felt to suck Bucky's soft cock, the way it had felt like something secret, something that shouldn't have been exposed to air, let alone his mouth. And now it was his turn to be exposed, and Bucky's turn to be gentle.

Bucky spat, and Steve's eyes flickered open, but he couldn't see anything in the water swirling around his feet. Bucky was already licking him again, and Steve tilted his hips a little, trying to welcome the attention. He felt himself relaxing all over, even there--it hurt less when he didn't clench so tight.

Bucky's tongue pressed a little more firmly against his hole, and Steve felt wetness leak out of him. His whole body went hot with shame, but Bucky just spat again like it was nothing, and there was nothing to see in the water between Steve's feet. 

"Just getting you clean," Bucky murmured. "Relax, Stevie, just let me clean you up."

He sagged against the wall and relaxed, letting it happen. The softness felt good against the hurt of it, and he remembered what Bucky had said: _like a long kiss_. That was how it felt, and too sweet to be as filthy as it was. But Bucky didn't seem to mind, so Steve didn't think about it, just let his mind go blank and let Bucky take care of him, licking out everything until Steve was clean.

"All right," Bucky said after a while. "You're spotless, babydoll, now let's get you to bed before your legs give out."

Steve whined a little--he didn't want to move. He didn't want Bucky to stop. 

Bucky laughed. "Nope, come on. JARVIS, turn the water off--there, now you have to come to bed, you're gonna get cold." 

Steve let Bucky peel him off the wall and run a towel over him, not too thoroughly. Bucky did an even more cursory job drying himself before he was guiding Steve to the bed--his hair was wet against Steve's cheek.

"Your sheets are gonna get soaked."

"They'll dry," Bucky muttered, kissing Steve's forehead. "Here, lie down. Careful."

Steve lay down on his face, and squirmed almost immediately in the awareness that Bucky was looking down at him at the same angle as the Soldier had. 

"Gave you some nasty bruises, babydoll," Bucky murmured. His finger ran lightly over Steve's hips--the left throbbed darkly when Bucky touched it, and Steve remembered the metal hand's implacable grip. His right hip hurt in the same pattern, but less so, and the cheeks of his ass ached lightly, from the spankings the Soldier had rained down. 

"Let me fix you up?" Bucky murmured, and Steve, facedown in a pillow, nodded agreeably. Bucky moved around on the bed. 

"Here," he murmured. "Turn your head, Stevie, this is for you."

Steve obediently turned his head, and found the straw of a water bottle at his lips. He sucked once for obedience and then started gulping the water eagerly, and he almost missed the sound of Bucky opening another bottle.

He couldn't miss the smell, though. Witch hazel. His breath caught, and he let the water bottle slip away from him.

"Won't put it anywhere it stings, Stevie," Bucky murmured. "Just those bruises."

Steve shook his head a little against the pillow. It wasn't that he didn't want it, but the smell took him back to so many other bruises, so many other times he'd been patched up. The grief for that other time--for his mother, for that other Bucky, that other life--hit him hard all of a sudden, catching him where he was cracked open and raw. Steve pressed his face down into the pillow, trying to muffle a sob.

"Hey, pal," Bucky said, because of course he heard. Of course Steve couldn't hide anything from Bucky now. Bucky was suddenly right there, lying beside him and pulling Steve over to lie on top of him, cradled by his body, his face tucked into Bucky's throat.

Steve grabbed hold of Bucky, fingers digging into his bare skin. He was going to leave his own bruises, but he couldn't let go.

"Don't," Steve managed to say, sobbing helplessly against Bucky's shoulder. "Don't go. Don't leave me."

"Shh, no, I won't, of course I won't," Bucky was murmuring, running his fingers through Steve's hair. "Aw, babydoll, you're stuck with me for good."

Steve shook his head at Bucky, overwhelmed with the sense of how fragile everything was, how much he had left to lose. He clung to Bucky and sobbed helplessly, and Bucky murmured soothing words and held him until the storm had passed, leveling out into shivers and hitching breath. 

"Don't go," he muttered again, and he had the feeling he'd said that a lot in the last little while. 

"I won't, pal," Bucky promised. "I won't, you couldn't get rid of me if you tried. Come here."

He tugged up with a hand on Steve's arm, and Steve pushed up on his elbows immediately, kissing Bucky before Bucky could give him some sweet and gentle kiss. Steve kissed him frantic and hungry, kissed him as though the hour of prep and pretending had been weeks of separation. Bucky's mouth tasted faintly like come, and his tongue only coaxed at Steve's, inviting him in. 

"I want you," Steve gasped between clumsy, needy kisses. "Bucky, I need you, I need, I need--"

"I know, babydoll," Bucky murmured, biting at his lip just enough to make Steve hold still. "You want to fuck my mouth, or--"

Steve shook his head, grinding his hips down against Bucky, faintly surprised to find he was hard, already shaking with it, desperate for it. "Just--just this, stay here."

Whatever Bucky said was lost into the next kiss, and Steve just kept grinding clumsily into him until Bucky reached down, pulling on Steve's thigh to get him to plant one knee. That was better, giving him leverage to thrust down against Bucky's wet, naked body. Bucky arched up helpfully against him. 

Bucky's mouth opened for endless kisses, going on and on as Steve rocked against him. Nothing hurt, then, and there was nothing in the world but Bucky, safe and his and here. 

"Don't go," Steve insisted against his mouth, and he was coming even as Bucky promised, "I won't, Stevie, I won't. I love you too."


	5. Chapter 5

Sitting in the quinjet, heading home from Bucky's first mission with the Avengers, Steve couldn't stop grinning. It didn't help that every time he looked over, Bucky was smiling too--not a big obvious grin like Steve's, but it was clear that he was pleased with himself.

Steve glanced around to make sure the others were occupied, and then he leaned in and whispered in Bucky's ear. "We should do something special to celebrate."

Bucky's eyes darted away first--checking the locations of everyone else in the quinjet--before he leaned away from Steve enough to meet his eyes. "How special?"

Steve just nodded. They'd been talking about it for a while now, ever since their pretending had gotten to be enough of a regular thing that Steve thought it was safe to press Bucky on how to make it better. They'd agreed to try it sometime, but he hadn't been able to pin Bucky down to a date.

Today would be good, though. They were both keyed up from the fight, and he knew Bucky would want it--and after Bucky got what he wanted, he'd see to Steve getting his fair share, so it would all work out. Something special for each of them. Steve still felt the last of the battle-high running through him, and he wanted another fight, a good one.

"You trusted me and my team to have your back today," Steve said, leaning in again to speak into Bucky's ear. "Think you can trust me a little more?"

Bucky's answer was just a low growl, almost subsonic, and then his fingers hooked into the collar of Steve's uniform, tugging him into a quick, hard kiss. 

_Yes_.

They broke apart at the sound of applause, and Steve looked over to see that they had an audience--a very amused audience. He felt his face heat, realizing that it was the first time he'd ever done more than take Bucky's hand in their presence. 

Bucky shifted his grip on Steve's collar to an arm around his shoulders. Steve shook his head and flipped off the rest of the team as he leaned into Bucky's side. 

"How much longer until we're home?" Bucky murmured against his ear, and Steve shivered in anticipation.

When he looked over again, Natasha winked at him and mouthed, _Go get 'em._

She had no idea what he'd be getting tonight, but Steve smiled back anyway. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt anyone.

* * *

The bell was on the coffee table. All Steve had to do was prep himself to get fucked and then go pick it up and wait for Bucky to start the game by attacking him. 

He was off to a good start: naked and kneeling on his own bed, two fingers slicked up and working in his ass. The process of stretching and lubricating himself was getting easier with practice, less unsettling. Getting violently fucked, on the other hand, was still bad enough to make it easy to scream and cry and beg for mercy while it was happening. 

Maybe it was just adrenaline, being halfway between a victorious fight and one he planned on losing, but Steve couldn't shake the feeling of eager anticipation that was running through him. His dick perked up with every random brush from his wrist as he worked his fingers in himself.

He tried to ignore the reaction. _Later,_ he told himself, _you'll get yours later_.

But that didn't help, because then he was thinking about later. 

He'd be shattered--more than usual, tonight, because he knew this new variation on the game was going to be awful in a way he wouldn't really understand until it was happening. When it was over Bucky would gather him up, all apologetic tenderness, and Steve would have no reason--no ability--to resist being taken care of. 

Bucky would clean him up, tend to his hurts, and somewhere in the process all the closeness and sweetness would get Steve going. It would end in a wracking, mindblowing orgasm in Bucky's arms. That part was also something that Steve could never quite believe was as intense as it was until it was happening, but the pattern was pretty clear.

Steve looked down at himself, two fingers buried in his ass and his dick half hard in anticipation of pretending to be violently raped. He blew out a breath. If he did anything about this now, it would hurt even more when Bucky fucked him later--and it was already going to hurt pretty badly. It would be another stream of unbearable intensity in something that was already going to be unbearably intense.

And afterward, he'd be more wrecked than ever, need Bucky's care and comfort more than ever. And whatever he needed, Bucky would give him.

Steve tilted his head back and thought about disasters and distraught civilians and worked a third finger into his ass, bending his wrist to avoid touching his dick at all. He had to prep himself before anything else. If he slacked off on this part, Bucky might really hurt him.

Steve had made that mistake a couple of weeks ago. He'd had to drop the bell to keep from being actually injured by Bucky's cock, knowing how much more things would be ruined if he toughed it out and let Bucky realize afterward that he was hurt. The memory of having to quit halfway was enough to both quell Steve's dick and motivate him to be thorough in his prep, and pretty soon he was dumping yet more lube over the plug and working it inside to hold him open. 

Then he looked down at himself again. His hands were still slick, and his body was still running hot in the transition from one kind of fight to the other. Nothing would happen until he left his room and picked up the bell; he controlled the timeline for a little longer yet.

He closed his hand on his dick and gave it a squeeze, letting himself think ahead again to how the night was going to end. He'd be in Bucky's bed, covered in bruises and maybe just a little blood, and Bucky would take such good care of him...

He was hard in the space of a few heartbeats, and it was surprisingly easy to ignore the plug as long as he held still. He jerked off to a blur of images--Bucky's mouth on him, Bucky's hands, Bucky's fierce grin during the mission as he took out targets on Steve's order. He was coming almost before he was ready, the tide of pleasure mixed with pain as his ass clenched rhythmically around the plug. 

"Oh, fuck," Steve muttered, stepping off the bed with the thing inside him. It hurt, but even more it felt big, unavoidable inside him. He couldn't ignore it at all, the way it rubbed against everything at once. He felt off-balance from the weird intensity of the sensations, even more than he usually did from the sheer fact of having something inside him while trying to fight. 

"This was the plan, Rogers," he muttered under his breath. A spur-of-the-moment plan, a reckless plan, but he had a plan. It would pay off. He _knew_ it would pay off. He just had to let it be more terrible than ever beforehand. 

Steve stood still another moment and then made himself drag on a pair of sweatpants, cursing under his breath with every motion it required. He was already sweating by the time he managed that, and he didn't even bother with a shirt. 

He walked out of the bedroom before he could think about it anymore, grimly keeping himself silent against the barrage of feeling. He made it to the coffee table by sheer force of will, picked up the bell and looked around even as he said, "JARVIS, game on." 

He barely heard JARVIS's routine reply. Bucky was already in the room, standing by the windows watching him. Steve jerked in surprise, his grip on the bell tightening. 

"Hey, Buck," he said hesitantly. 

Bucky was still wearing the same combat uniform he'd worn on the Avengers mission, including the sidearm holstered at his thigh and two knives Steve could see, which meant he'd also be carrying another three Steve couldn't. His boots were on, his hair tied back, but his face was bare, although Steve couldn't read his expression. He was silhouetted against the glass with the brightness of day behind him.

Bucky still didn't move for a moment, letting dread slide down Steve's spine to combine with the half-sick feeling of the thing inside him, keeping him open for this. 

"Bucky?" Steve repeated, and it was no effort at all to make his voice sound small and lost and uncertain.

"No," Bucky said, straightening up and striding forward. Steve backed up a step and froze again, like an animal hypnotized by headlights. The plug inside him already hurt and Bucky was moving like the Soldier, and there was nothing to do but wait for the impact. 

Bucky didn't stop coming when Steve hesitated; he stomped right over the coffee table. When Steve finally pulled it together to back up a few steps Bucky lunged in, blurring with speed. 

His hand clamped on Steve's throat, and Bucky whispered, "Not your Bucky anymore."

Steve tried to shake his head--it was a game, and even if it wasn't he would protest that. Of course Bucky was his Bucky. The grip on his throat was tight, though, barely allowing him to move.

"I only needed you to make the others trust me," Bucky growled in his ear. "To believe I'm the old version. Even believe we're in love--" 

Steve whimpered at that even though he'd known this was coming. They'd worked out this part of the game in advance, agreeing on the premise, the storyline that would make this still a kind of pretend when they used their own names, their own faces.

Bucky's grip on his throat tightened. "They all think it's so sweet. They'll never question whether I'm grieving when I find your body later tonight, beaten, raped, murdered."

Steve shook his head harder, and managed to croak out, "Bucky, don't--this isn't you--"

"Oh, but it is," Bucky murmured, low and hot like a promise. 

Steve had to remember again that this was the game, that they had worked this out in advance. His hands scrabbled against the smooth front of his new uniform--no handy straps to grab onto. 

"This is the real me, Stevie. Just been biding my time. Getting you into position to give me what I really want. And now I'm going to take _everything_."

"Nnn," Steve managed, but Bucky shoved him to the ground, releasing his grip to let Steve hit the floor hard. 

He hit ass first, which made him let out a startled little scream that wasn't exaggerated at all. Tears were blurring his vision as he got his hands and knees under him. He pushed up into a staggering, limping run, aiming for the front of the apartment. The elevators were in a little area just past the kitchen, and he'd left the shield there. 

Bucky let him get into the kitchen, then caught his ankle and sent him to the floor again, face first this time. Steve threw his arms wide, not catching himself at all--the thought flashed through his mind, _maybe if it hurts somewhere else I won't feel it so much_. He instinctively turned his head at the last instant, but he still smacked his cheek hard against the tile of the kitchen floor, driving his teeth into the side of his mouth. 

Blood poured over his tongue and his head was still vibrating from the impact as Bucky yanked the sweatpants off.

"All mine," Bucky growled above him, pressing a hand down in the middle of his back. "You're all mine now, Stevie. If you're good I'll kill you in the middle of it, instead of at the very, very end."

Steve lashed out blindly with a backward kick that actually connected, but Bucky just laughed and pressed down harder. 

"Think you can hurt me, Cap? You know I'm stronger than you. I always was, Stevie, and nothing's--fucking--changed." 

Bucky punctuated his words with jabs of his metal fingers against the plug, and Steve's cries at the first two rose to an unabashed howl at the third. Tears streamed down his face while Bucky brought his nightmares to life. It was too much, he couldn't bear it, he couldn't--

He flexed his fingers around the bell and remembered the plan. He could. He could do this. He spat out blood on the kitchen floor and shook his head clear.

"Give me your hands," Bucky demanded, and Steve flexed his grip on the bell as he struggled, trying to evade Bucky's grip. Bucky's hand closed on his wrist, bringing first one hand and then the other down to pin them at the small of his back. Bucky held him there and played with the plug again, making Steve sob with every touch. He really hadn't thought this through. 

"Don't cry," Bucky said, his tone turning playful and sweet in a way that made Steve feel sick, his breath hitching helplessly. 

"Aww, Stevie, you're gonna get just what you always wanted. I'm gonna fuck you blind before you die in my arms."

"No," Steve managed, and he felt more blood leaking from his mouth with the words. "No, Bucky, please, not like this, _not like this_ , you can't--"

"Watch me, pal," Bucky growled, and the plug was yanked free, making Steve wail even before it was replaced--not with Bucky's cock but with his fingers, shoving in hard to grind against his prostate. He was already oversensitive from coming and the pressure just made Steve wail, writhing to try to get away. 

"That's right, Stevie," Bucky growled. "You never did have to be stoic with me, did you? Let me hear how much it hurts."

"No," Steve gasped, trying to bring his breathing under control. He thought that might be a cue of some kind, but he couldn't translate it through the pain and the overwhelming sensations, the dizzy horror of Bucky's betrayal, even in play. 

"Bucky, no, no--"

He didn't actually hear the sound of the uniform's catches opening. The fasteners were all weirdly silent, so it was possible to dress and undress stealthily. He didn't know until he felt Bucky's weight shifting over him, the hot press of Bucky's cock between his cheeks where Bucky's fingers were holding him open as they tortured him. 

"Please," Steve gasped, tears sliding down his face. "No, Bucky, no, not this--"

His fingers whipped out and his cock slammed in, and Steve screamed again, trying to lunge away. Bucky caught him by the hair, hauling his head back in a painful arc, bringing him right up onto his knees as Bucky slammed into him again. 

He felt a blunt, cold pressure at his throat and instinctively froze without any calculation at all, even before he'd recognized the barrel of Bucky's sidearm pressing against his throat. The muzzle pressed into the underside of his jaw as Bucky's cock shoved into him again. 

"Please," Steve whispered. With his head tilted back like this he could feel blood trickling back from the corner of his mouth, tears sliding toward his ears. "Bucky don't--don't do this, please, I'll do anything, I'll--"

"Damn right you will," Bucky growled in his ear, fucking him in savage little thrusts. He held the gun steady with his left hand while his right roamed over Steve's chest, pinching roughly at Steve's nipples, mauling his pecs.

Steve closed his eyes and let himself sob as the pain lit up his whole body and the nightmare sunk its teeth into him. Bucky was getting close, it was almost over, he'd almost made it. He just had to hold it together a little longer. 

"You're mine now, Stevie, and I will never let you--"

"Drop the gun."

Steve froze at the sound of Natasha's voice, but Bucky was already moving--throwing the gun away, scrambling back from him like he'd thrown the bell. 

Steve's hand clamped tight around it. He _hadn't_. But it still took him a pained, frozen moment to actually turn and see what was happening, and then he just stared.

Natasha had a knife to Bucky's throat, and Bucky's eyes were wide with horror, fixed on Steve. Steve was frozen in turn at the sight of Bucky's terror, realizing how this must seem to Bucky--he must think Steve had asked him to stop, that he'd ignored all the safeguards and really hurt him. Steve just managed to shake his head before the tableau was shattered by Sam, Clint, and--Jesus--Tony, armor and all--bursting out of the elevator. 

Sam led the charge, rushing toward Steve, and Steve was frozen all over again by the mounting awfulness of their exposure. 

"Don't," Steve said, trying to push Sam away as he reached for Steve's face--the blood would have drawn his attention, of course, but Steve felt himself flushing hot at the realization that Sam would also see the tears he could still feel wet on his cheeks. And no one was going to miss the nakedness, the obvious fact that he'd been in the middle of getting fucked. 

Before he could say more everyone was talking--yelling--at once. Natasha was screaming at Bucky in Russian while Clint and Sam crowded around Steve, hands hovering as they both tried to ask him questions. Tony moved exactly into Steve's eyeline to Bucky, leaving him just imagining that horrified face while he was still trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

"Natasha," Steve snarled, realizing. She'd thought they were planning something sweet. She'd meant to sneak in on them. She'd called for backup when she saw what was happening. "Natasha, don't fucking hurt him--"

"I'll do whatever I have to do," Natasha shouted back, but there was still no sound from Bucky himself, and it was obvious no one was going to listen to reason--

A sharp whistle emerged from every direction at once, and even Steve froze under it before he understood that that was the sound of the cavalry arriving. _JARVIS_.

Everyone went silent for just long enough to hear JARVIS say in stern but measured tones, "Please unhand Sergeant Barnes, Agent Romanov."

"Uh, buddy," Tony said, "you and I are going to--"

JARVIS overrode Tony ruthlessly. "Sir, please be aware that Captain Rogers expressed affirmative consent at the beginning of this encounter and neither used his safeword nor a nonverbal signal to withdraw that consent at any time before Agent Romanov intervened."

There was a ringing silence in the room. Clint and Sam both drew back from him slightly. Steve shook his hand hard enough to make the bell he still held rattle out its _tock tock tock_ sound.

He heard a breath that was nearly a sob from the other side of all the bodies in the room. That was enough to make him shove to his feet--naked, bleeding, dripping lube, and _absolutely furious_.

"Get out," Steve said flatly, pointing to the elevators with his free hand. "All of you, now that you've invaded our privacy and poked your fingers into our entirely consensual sex life, _get your hands off of Bucky and get out_."

Clint grabbed Sam and bolted for the elevator, and Tony was actually floating gently in the air, giving an apologetic little wave as he said, "I'll, uh, talk to JARVIS about this. Won't happen again, Cap."

Steve didn't even look at him, too fixed on the sight revealed when Tony drew away: Natasha still on her knees by Bucky, her hands spread wide. There were four knives on the floor between them--she'd been disarming him. Bucky had drawn up his knees to his chest and had his face pressed against them, and Natasha was staring at him with an expression that seemed, against all odds, to be concern. 

She looked up at Steve, then back to Bucky, and said, formally and seriously, "I'm sorry. I never intended..." 

Her hand dropped to the pocket of her jacket, where Steve could just see the corner of something brightly gift-wrapped protruding. "I shouldn't have. I'm sorry." 

She stood, nodded to Steve, and walked stiff-legged to the elevator.

Steve dropped to his knees as soon as the elevator doors closed on the others. Bucky didn't move, still curled up small, exactly how he shouldn't be now. He should be the fierce attacker while they were pretending, the competent protector after; he should be furious at being interrupted, careful and self-contained if he didn't want to play. Not silently small and wounded like this.

"Bucky," Steve said softly. 

"Did you," Bucky said without picking up his head.

Steve shook his head and shook his left fist, making the bell rattle again. 

"I thought you did," Bucky whispered. "When she--I thought I didn't listen, I thought JARVIS had to call for backup."

While he was fucking Steve and Steve was crying too hard to beg for mercy. Exactly his nightmare come to life.

"No," Steve said softly. "You heard JARVIS. Right? JARVIS, did you sic Natasha on us?"

"I did not," JARVIS said at once. "And I apologize for not preventing the intrusion. She had rendered herself invisible to me, although I believe her intentions were benign, and possibly humorous. Once she declared a security emergency, my protocols did not allow me to interrupt until the second I did."

"She had something in her pocket," Steve added. "A present or something, she was probably just going to leave it where we would see when we got done... fucking for the first time, or whatever she thought we'd worked up to."

Bucky picked up his head and gave Steve a slightly disbelieving look, and Steve shrugged. "I told her way back at the beginning that we were taking it slow, and I never announced that anything had changed. Did you?"

Bucky shook his head slowly.

"Buck," Steve said, splaying out his thumb and first two fingers, showing the bell still held tight against his palm. "The deal is, if I don't tap out, you don't let me off the hook, right? I didn't tap out."

Bucky gave him an even more disbelieving look.

"I still trust you," Steve said softly. "And you still trust me. None of what just happened was your fault or mine, and the fact that they know something about this is no reason to give up what works for us. JARVIS? Are we going to be interrupted again?"

"You will not. Sir has just installed a special protocol to allow me discretion in the event of security alerts regarding Sergeant Barnes, to prevent further misunderstandings."

"Okay, then," Steve said. "Nothing's stopping us from celebrating exactly the way we meant to celebrate."

"Steve," Bucky said. "Are you--how fucking bad do you want to--you're still fucking bleeding."

"Yeah, well, I'm the one who didn't catch myself when I went down," Steve said, rubbing his knuckles across his mouth to smear blood across his cheek. "I'm the one who slicked myself up for you to fuck. And I'm the idiot who jerked off before I came out here so I'd scream as soon as you started fucking me."

Bucky's posture shifted as Steve spoke, hardening and tilting forward. Steve almost had him. "Stevie, you--why the fuck would you do that?"

"Because I couldn't stop thinking about what was going to happen," Steve answered honestly. "I knew it was going to be the scariest fucking thing you'd done to me yet, and I knew that afterward you were going to make it up to me, and I couldn't wait."

Bucky raised his eyebrows, lowering one knee enough that Steve could see his dick. It was shiny, half-hard, definitely taking an interest. "Sounds like you're getting trained."

"Sounds like I am," Steve said, licking blood from the corner of his mouth. He closed the fingers of his left hand around the bell again, reached down with his right hand to feel where he was still slick. He'd tensed up pretty badly during the interruption, but it was almost automatic now to ease open at the press of his own fingers. 

"So," Steve said. "What are you going to teach me next?"

There was a long moment while they stared at each other, Steve's fingers still working in his ass--the little filthy sound of it was the only thing he could hear. He watched Bucky's gaze flick back and forth from his hand to his face.

"Bucky?" Steve said, watching the line of his shoulders, the tiny motions of his hands. 

He saw it coming a second before it happened: Bucky grabbed the nearest knife and sprang at him all in one motion, bowling him over. Steve's head snapped down hard against the kitchen floor, and Bucky shoved the hilt of the knife between his teeth and growled, "I'm gonna teach you to take this."

He shoved his mouth down on Steve's around the knife, forcing his tongue against Steve's in a cruel parody of a kiss. 

Steve closed his eyes and wailed a wordless protest as he squeezed the bell tight in his left hand.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Comic] The Secretary's Labors](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8836177) by [thefilthiestpiglet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefilthiestpiglet/pseuds/thefilthiestpiglet)




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